


Pet Names

by Love_of_fandoms



Series: Hun, Sweetie, Din [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Awkwardness, Baby Yoda Gets a Name, Bonding, But don't worry its, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Cuddles, F/M, Falling In Love, Fatherhood, Feels, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mando gets cockblocked by his armor, Mando'a, Maybe - Freeform, Meeting the Parents, Mutual Pining, Parenthood, Pet Names, Pining, Protectiveness, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Tension, Slavery, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Soulmates, Strip Poker, Strip Sabaak, Touchy-Feely, chosen family, i don't know yet, ish, kind of, language lessons, mentioned only - Freeform, more just meeting the family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_of_fandoms/pseuds/Love_of_fandoms
Summary: Imogen didn't feel right calling the Mandalorian "Mando", it felt like when someone called her "girl" or "human"-disrespectful. So she decided to call him pet names, "honey" or "dear" or whatever the mood of the day was.A Mandalorian Fic that will not be updated regularly, just whenever I get an idea
Relationships: Cara Dune/Omera (Star Wars), Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Hun, Sweetie, Din [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720084
Comments: 44
Kudos: 202





	1. Hun

**Author's Note:**

> Because I always forget, here are the armor parts' names  
> Greaves - Calves  
> Cuisses - Thighs  
> Cuirass - Chest  
> Vambrace - Lower arms  
> Rerebrace - Upper arms  
> Pauldron - Shoulders

Imogen couldn’t stop staring.

“Imogen,” she hummed at the voice, not tearing her eyes from the thing that had caught her attention. “Imogen!”

“Yes?” she asked, still not looking at the Rodian who sat next to her at the bar.

“IMOGEN WILL YOU STOP STARING?!” he finally placed a hand on her shoulder to jostle her, and Imogen pouted as she finally turned her attention to him, neck tilting up so she could meet his eyes.

“But Aler!” she whined, said Rodian’s eyes narrowing slightly. “That is the most adorable creature I’ve ever seen!” she protested, going to look back but Aler grabbed her face and forcefully turned it back to her drink. She missed the way the Mandalorian’s helmet tilted slightly, the man underneath hearing every part of this interaction.

“And you haven’t noticed the fucking mandalorian warrior sitting next to it?” Aler growled, and Imogen shrugged.

“It’s not like I mean it any harm, I don’t think its dad is gonna kill me just for admiring it,” she said, voice casual as Aler’s mouth dropped.

“He’s probably murdered for less,” he whispered, though the Mandalorian could still hear every word out of his mouth.

“Children need to be socialized,” Imogen fired back. “Is it really so terrible that I just wanna give that adorable green monster a hug?” she asked, and Aler threw his head back with a groan.

“Do you have no sense of self preservation?” he challenged, and Imogen giggled.

“I have a rather good sense of self preservation, I’ll have you know!” she shot back, gulping down whatever drink the Rodian had ordered her this time. This was how it usually went after she had fixed his ship, he’d pay her a couple credits below her usual rate, and the rest would go to drinks as the two caught up. Imogen prided herself on being the closest thing to a friend the Rodian bounty hunter could claim to have.

“Mhmm,” Aler was obviously unconvinced. Imogen just raised her eyebrows at him.

“I kicked your ass the first time we met, and you still don’t think I can handle myself?” she challenged, and Aler’s hands immediately rose in a placating gesture.

“Hey, you know I was joking, Imogen,” he said, voice raising slightly in pitch. Imogen laughed.

“That’s what I thought,” she shot back her drink that had been refilled before standing and giving the Rodian a one-armed hug. “Next time I see you, it had better not be because all that work I just did on your ship got blown up,” she muttered, glaring at Aler as he had the gall to look guilty.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and Imogen rolled her eyes.

“Sure you are,”

* * *

It was much later when Imogen was working on a speeder that had been dropped off earlier in the day, when the sun on Nevarro was still high and she could still feel the heat travelling over from the nearby lava fields. Her hand tightened around the wrench she had in her hand when she heard the softest  _ clink _ of armor behind her, whoever was approaching was clearly trying to do so unannounced. She spun around quickly, reaching her arm with the wrench straight out and gasping as it collided with a beskar chest plate. She heard a groan crackle through the modulator, but the Mandalorian quickly raised his hands to show he meant her no harm.

“Oh shit I’m sorry!” she gasped, grabbing his arm and forcing him to sit down. “I thought- well, I don’t know, but I’m sorry, even with that armor on that must’ve hurt,” she murmured, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck after dumping the wrench on the seat of the speeder. The Mandalorian said nothing, just looked at her. Or at least, she assumed he was looking at her, one could never tell where his eyes were pointed under that black visor. “Can I-what can I do for you?” she stuttered nervously when he made no move to speak, and it was only then that she noticed the floating bassinet was right behind him. It was open and a green head with comically large ears was poking out, huge eyes staring at her. Imogen suppressed her urge to squish it to her chest and hold onto the adorable child forever, instead refocusing on the Mandalorian.

“You like kids,” he said, an observation more than a question. Imogen just nodded slightly, eyes narrowed in confusion. “You’re a mechanic,” he continued, to which Imogen nodded again. “You can fight,” a nod again. “You looking for work?” this one was a question, and Imogen’s eyes widened slightly.

“Are-are you offering?” her fingers twitched, anxious to have something to fidget with. The Mandalorian, who was clearly a man of few words, nodded curtly. “You want me to..?” she trailed off, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

“Look after the kid while I’m on jobs, patch up the ship when needed,” he said, and Imogen tried to hide the excited smile on her face at the prospect of getting to care for the child.

“A-and, what would p-pay be?” she asked, voice betraying how nervous she was to ask.

“25% of my earnings from bounties, plus food and lodging,” he responded, and Imogen had to physically restrain herself from jumping at the offer, which was much more generous than she had expected.

“Th-that sounds good,” she muttered instead, shuffling her feet in the sand, tilting her head down so she was no longer staring into the empty blackness of his visor. She vaguely knew of mandalorian culture, and held a great respect for those who followed the way of the Mandalore, but it was still unnerving to talk to someone without eye contact or facial expressions.

“Can you leave tomorrow?” the Mandalorian asked, rising and tilting his helmet down to remain looking at her. Imogen nodded in confirmation, eyes glancing at the child who was still staring at her before returning to the Mandalorian’s helm. The Mandalorian noticed her gaze, despite the subtleness, and shifted almost awkwardly. “Do you-” the hesitance in his words surprised Imogen, his unsure voice not fitting with his armor and the rest of his persona. “Do you want to hold him?” he asked, and he had barely finished the question before Imogen was lunging forward and picking up the child. She saw the Mandalorian flinch slightly, as if he were going to stop her from touching the child, before forcing himself to relax. It was obvious whenever the child was involved he was in a state of high alert, seeing as not too long ago many of the hunters on Nevarro would have sought to eliminate both him and the child. 

The child let out a coo as Imogen hugged him to her chest, his three clawed hand softly holding onto a lock of her hair. Everything but the little child in her arms was drowned out, and Imogen’s inner nurturer purred at the opportunity to take care of a baby. A smile lit up her face as she bounced the child, who she had noticed yawning in the bassinet a little earlier. His giant eyes began to blink sleepily as he smacked his lips together, and almost instinctively Imogen began to hum to it, the melody a song from her youth. It barely took a minute for the child to fall asleep, and when Imogen became more aware of where she was, her eyes widened, looking up to the Mandalorian who had not moved from his spot directly in front of her, his helmet tilted slightly to the left as he observed her.

“Sorry,” she whispered, going to hand the child back to him. “Instinct,” the Mandalorian nodded, hands reaching to take the child, but pausing when the child squirmed to get back to Imogen’s warmth.

“I could show you the ship,” he blurted, voice equally soft, and Imogen widened her eyes slightly at the offer. “It’s impossible to get him to sleep, and he likes you, so-” Imogen cut him off with a smile and a nod, gesturing for him to lead the way. The Mandalorian led her and his youngling to the Razor Crest, which he had landed just outside the city, the bassinet trailed behind them uselessly, as the child slept in Imogen’s arms.

After pressing a button on his vambrace, the ramp to the Mandalorian’s ship lowered, the quiet whirring of the machinery surprising Imogen, who had expected every mechanical part of the ship to be noisy and clunky. She was led up to ramp to a metal cot which was next to a little alcove where she assumed the child slept. 

“That’ll be your cot,” the Mandalorian said, his voice still quiet as to not disturb the child.

“You’re lucky I hoard blankets, otherwise that cot would be  _ very _ uncomfortable,” she said with an awkward giggle, crouching down to rearrange the blankets in the child’s sleeping space one-handed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and Imogen’s giggle was more natural this time.

“It’s no wonder you can’t get him to sleep if this is where you try to get him to do it,” she murmured, folding one blanket so it was just one layer in the middle, but had more cushioning around the outside. “He doesn’t even have a pillow,” Imogen placed the child gently down on the makeshift bed, her arms going to take off her overshirt to make into the child’s pillow before the Mandalorian’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. He said nothing, and Imogen was left just awkwardly glancing at his hand. “I have an undershirt,” she reassured him, lifting her wrist that wasn’t in the Mandalorian’s grasp to show him the white tank top underneath. “I was going to give him my shirt as his pillow,” she said, and gently pulled her wrist out of his gloved hand.

After Imogen had rolled her overshirt up and gently placed it under the child’s head, she turned back to the Mandalorian.

“I have a client coming to pick up his speeder at first light, and then I’ll be good to go,” she said, turning to leave the ship. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hun,” she bid him goodbye and left the ship, hearing the awkward choked sound of surprise leave the Mandalorian. Imogen bit her lip softly, her sharp teeth digging in enough to keep her grounded but not enough to draw blood. It was a reflex…

* * *

Din debated calling after her, debated demanding to know why she called him hun, or just calling her back to the ship so he could be in her presence a little longer. Of course, he did none of those things, instead pressing a button on his vambrace once she was out of sight to lift the ramp of his ship again. He turned his head to look at his foundling, who had turned to nuzzle into the girl’s shirt.

“I’m glad you like her, kid,” he said, and turned to go up to the cockpit for some shut eye, having a small room where his bed was right behind it. The door was hidden, of course, but somehow the little green womp rat who was currently sleeping in his own bed for once almost always found a way to crawl up and sleep on Din’s chest.

That night he stayed in his bed, and when Din came down in the morning with his armor on and ready to go, he was surprised to see the child still contently nuzzling Imogen’s shirt. He scooped him up and placed him in his bassinet, the child still gripping the shirt, and Din closed the lid so he could continue sleeping. He exited the Razor Crest with the bassinet following slightly behind him, and walked the short distance into town and over to Imogen’s modest mechanic’s stall. The speeder she had been working on the day before was gone, and Imogen sat in front of the stall with two bags and a toolkit at her feet, one bag presumably held her clothing and toiletries, while the other looked like an instrument case. 

Din stopped a couple feet away, waiting for Imogen to finish up her conversation with the woman she was chatting with.

“Imogen, you know I-”

“You will,” Imogen cut the woman off, shoving something in her hand. “I won’t be here anymore, and people know this to be a mechanic’s stall,” the woman tried to protest again. 

“At least let me pay-”

“No!” Imogen denied, grabbing the woman’s hand before it could reach into the pocket of her apron for credits. “You deserve it,” she pressed, shoving the woman’s hands away before giving her a quick hug. The woman smiled at the girl, nodding slightly.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and Imogen shook her head before turning and seeing the Mandalorian.

“Oh! Good morning!” she greeted with a shy smile, hoisting the bags up over her shoulder and lifting the tool kit. The Mandalorian nodded to her in greeting. “Are we off?” he nodded once more, and Imogen nodded back, prompting him to turn to head back to the ship, trusting her to follow. She glanced at the closed bassinet with a smile, rightly assuming the child was still asleep, before trailing after the Mandalorian.

Once they were in sight of the Razor Crest, Imogen spoke.

“So, I’ve gathered you aren’t a fan of talking,” she began, and the Mandalorian simply inclined his helmet at her to show he was listening. “But I gotta ask if you want to set aside times where I bugger off from the main area?” she asked, and the Mandalorian’s helmet snapped over to look at her, the helmet hiding Din’s shocked look. “So you can eat and stuff..?” Imogen continued, cringing slightly at his intense gaze that was  _ palpable _ even through the helmet.

“You-” the Mandalorian cut himself off with a sigh. “That is kind of you, but not necessary, I have my own quarters,” he said, and Imogen smiled softly at him, nodding.

“Okay,” she said, climbing the ramp. The two had reached the Crest by that point and Imogen wasted no time in plopping one of her bags next to her cot and unzipping it, pulling out four blankets that the Mandalorian was surprised she had room for and setting them on the cot. She felt his stare, and turned to smile sheepishly at him.

“I  _ really _ like being warm,” she giggled nervously, one hand clasping at her wrist. “I’m like a friggin lothcat, I get the right amount of warmth and I’m asleep,” the Mandalorian nodded once, glad that the helmet was hiding his amused smile, especially when she continued to nervously gaze up at him. “I-uh-,” she cut herself off with another nervous giggle, and the Mandalorian tilted his head at her as if to say ‘ _ go on _ ’. “I can fly pretty well, too, if you ever need that,” she said, unconsciously reminding the Mandalorian that they were supposed to be leaving, and he nodded once more before heading up to the cockpit, Imogen following after him. The bassinet followed after them, and the Mandalorian pressed a button on his vambrace causing it to settle onto the ground next to the copilot’s seat. Imogen heard the cooing start not soon after that, as he was initiating the take off sequence. Her eyes fell on a button at the front of the bassinet, and she reached to press it, the lid opening with a slight  _ hiss _ to show the now awake child gazing up at her. Once he registered that it was Imogen’s face he was seeing, a toothy grin came onto his face and he made the universal baby grabby hands at her. Imogen giggled softly and lifted him up, placing him facing out on her lap so he could watch his dad pilot them off Nevarro.


	2. Sweetie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been two weeks since Imogen was hired to join the Mandalorian as a babysitter and mechanic, and Imogen is getting fed up with not having a name to call the child.

_ This was getting ridiculous. _ Imogen decided after a particularly long day with the child. The Mandalorian had left at first light that morning after landing in a pretty forest sometime in the night before. The child was adorable, and Imogen adored him, but she just didn’t feel right only calling him “kid”. He must have a name, right? 

Imogen hadn’t asked. The Mandalorian didn’t do much talking, and out of respect for him Imogen didn’t try to get him to say much. She would talk at him, but make it clear that he wasn’t expected to contribute to the one sided conversation. In fact, after the first day on the Razor Crest when the Mandalorian had to tell her-somewhat awkwardly-that she didn’t have to change out in the open, there was a separate fresher, he hadn’t spoken at all except to tell her when he was going out. Imogen huffed lightly as she remembered the interaction, the armored warrior having come down from the cockpit just as she was pulling up her pants. Despite not being privy to his facial expression, Imogen considered his frozen posture to be his “deer in the headlights” look.

So of course, two weeks into caring for the child, Imogen didn’t know his name. Her discomfort with calling him “kid” was starting to become a problem. She would call for it but “kid” would get stuck on her tongue. After having brought the child back to the Crest after playing in a stream nearby, Imogen resolved to ask the Mandalorian. Her clothes were soaked through, as was the robe the child always wore, and she froze just outside of the ship as she heard frantic clanging coming from inside. It sounded like objects were being thrown around, like someone was looking for something. Imogen’s arms tightened around the child, knowing people could still potentially be after him. She crept forward, peaking around the edge of the crest and sighing in relief when she saw the glint of beskar armor. Her shoulders relaxed.

“We’re here!” she called to him, and he spun around quickly, helmet moving jerkily as he scanned both Imogen and the child, taking in their soaked clothes and Imogen’s dripping hair.

“What happened?” he demanded, and Imogen giggled as she glared at the child playfully.

“This little one thought it would be funny to levitate some water over my head,” she said, pausing for dramatic effect. “And then drop it,” the child giggled with her, seemingly knowing she was talking about him.

“Ah,” the Mandalorian muttered. 

“You know, I know you like your silence, but maybe you should’ve warned me he could do that stuff?” Imogen teased with a soft smile, having found out a couple days before that the child could do some freaky stuff. She noticed the way the Mandalorian’s shoulders tensed, and immediately felt a little guilty. “Oh, it’s okay!” she quickly soothed, walking onto the Crest. “It was just a surprise,” she quickly went to the child’s little sleeping space, pulling out a cloth robe that she had made for him when she realized he only had one article of clothing the week before, and changed him out of his soaked robe and into the soft dry one.

“And you’re…” the Mandalorian paused as his helmet tilted up and down to assess her state once more. “Okay,” he confirmed, and Imogen nodded with a smile.

“Of course,” there was silence for a moment before Imogen perked up, remembering she needed to ask the Mandalorian something. “Sweetie?” she asked, and the Mandalorian startled, still not used to the pet names she used to refer to him. He was stunned every time he realized she was addressing him. “What’s the child’s name?” she asked, and the Mandalorian shrugged.

“He doesn’t really have one,” he said, and Imogen pouted, obviously displeased by the answer.

“Is there a cultural reason?” she asked, knowing some cultures didn’t name their children until some coming of age ceremony or milestone. The Mandalorian shook his head, and Imogen’s pout intensified. She pointed an accusing finger at him. “Well you should come up with one, I’m not calling him ‘kid’,” she demanded, slipping into the fresher to put on some dry clothing. She didn’t expect the Mandalorian to still be where she left him when she exited, but her eyes widened with surprise when she saw him sitting at the table by her cot.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confessed eventually, gazing at the child who he had placed in his lap. Imogen kept quiet, this being the most the Mandalorian had spoken to her since he hired her. “I wouldn’t know where to start with naming this womp rat,” the insult was said affectionately, and Imogen gave the father and son duo a soft smile.

“Well what do you think of, when you see him?” she asked, settling into the seat across from him. The Mandalorian’s helmet tilted slightly to the side as he thought.

“He’s fifty years old,” he said with a chuckle, and Imogen’s ears delighted at the sound.

“Really?” she gasped, staring at the child. “I know some species age differently but-wow!” she laughed slightly, gaze turning fond as she continued staring at him. “What is the word for old in Mando’a?” she asked, and the Mandalorian simply stared at her for a moment before answering.

“ _ Ruug, _ ” he answered. “You don’t want to name him  **old** do you?” he challenged, and Imogen shook her head with a full forced laugh at his question.

“Of course not,” she responded. “What’s the word for young?”

“ _ Evaar _ ,” the Mandalorian answered again, and tilted his head in thought as he realized what she was getting at. “Ruu’Eva,” he said, looking down at the child, helmet hiding his fond-almost teary-smile. “ _ Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad _ , Ruu’Eva,” he said, and Imogen’s heart swelled as the warrior brought his little green son up to touch foreheads with him. The child-Ruu’Eva cooed at his dad, tiny clawed hands coming to rest on the cheeks of his helmet. 

Imogen stood to grab the newly named Ruu’Eva and herself some food, also putting together a plate for the Mandalorian to bring up to his quarters to eat later. She wished to give him some space, the tender moment obviously being very important to him. She was shocked when once again the Mandalorian spoke unprompted.

“Thank you,” he said, and Imogen turned to send him a confused smile.

“What for?” she asked, of course appreciating the gratitude but not understanding where it was coming from.

“For helping me name him,” he explained, and for once Imogen had to look down to hold his gaze, the Mandalorian still sitting while she stood. “What I just said, it’s the  _ Gai Bal Manda _ , the Mandalorian adoption vow, and it literally translates to  _ ‘I know your name as my child’ _ but the child must have a name in the first place,” he continued, and Imogen smiled down at him as he almost rambled. “I couldn’t-nothing fit-and you-” he cut himself off and took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said again, and Imogen nodded at him, her soft smile remaining in place.

“Of course,” she said, setting the his and the child’s plate down in front of him as she put her own infront of her seat across the table. “Do you want to feed him? Or me?” she asked, and the Mandalorian answered by picking up a small piece of meat and lifting it to the child’s lips. Imogen nodded again as she sat down at her own place, realizing that the Mandalorian was probably a little overwhelmed at talking so much. She didn’t say anything more, she just ate her food and thought of the beautiful words the Mandalorian had said so tenderly to Ruu’Eva.

It was only when the Mandalorian stood and grabbed his own plate that Imogen was able to gather the courage to ask one more thing of him.

“Sweetie?” she called, and the Mandalorian paused and tilted his head, not turning back to her but showing her he was listening. ”Will you teach me?” she asked. This time he did turn back to face her.

“What?” he asked, and Imogen smiled shyly.

“Mando’a,” she murmured, scratching her neck nervously and averting her gaze. “I understand if not-if it’s sacred to the Mandalorians or something, but I like language, and it sounds beautiful, and-” the Mandalorian cut off her nervous tirade.

“ _ K’uur _ ,” he said, and Imogen looked back up at him, with a curious expression. “It means hush, or be quiet,” he explained, and Imogen smiled widely, taking that as his acceptance. 

“Does that-” she went to confirm that his words meant he would teach her, but he cut her off once more.

“Tomorrow,” he said instead, the word both ending their conversation and promising her more. Imogen nodded.

“Tomorrow,” she parroted, biting her lip as the Mandalorian ascended the ladder to the cockpit and his quarters. Ruu’Eva cooed softly at Imogen, and she picked him up gently.

“Big day, huh? Let’s get some sleep,” she didn’t even bother placing the child in his own bed, having found that he preferred to have her chest as his pillow. “Someday you’re gonna have to sleep by yourself,” she murmured, lips brushing his wrinkled forehead before both the newly named baby and herself succumbed to the call of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though everything said here is translated in the story, I'll still give you the translations  
> Ruug - Old Age  
> Evaar - Youth  
> Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad - I recognize your name as my child  
> Gai Bal Manda - Name of the Mandalorian adoption vow  
> K'uur - Hush


	3. Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imogen is woken up by Ruu’Eva in the middle of the night, and Din does some reflecting about the newest addition to his crew.

Imogen woke up to tiny clawed hands lightly tapping her chest. Her eyes opened groggily, and she was met with the newly named Ruu’Eva giving her a toothy smile as he played drums on her sternum. She gave him a soft smile in return.

“Good morning, Ruu’Eva,” she greeted, sitting up and stroking his large ears. He cooed, as if to say  _ good morning _ back to her, and Imogen sat up, cupping his bum so he didn’t slide off her chest. She lightly bounced him as she stood, awkwardly climbing the ladder to the cockpit one handed. They had left the planet sometime while she was asleep, apparently, according to the streaking lights of hyperspace going past the viewport and shining on the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“Morning,” Imogen mumbled sleepily as she plopped into the copilot's seat, her unoccupied hand running through her hair to try to tame her bedhead.

“ _ Su'cuy _ ,” the Mandalorian greeted back, causing Imogen to smile as she remembered his promise of language lessons. “Hi,” he translated.

“So I was thinking,” Imogen began, seeing the Mandalorian tilt his helmet towards her to indicate he was listening. “The child is 50 years old, and I’m assuming you’re  _ not _ , so you don’t know his birthday, right?” she took the responding silence as confirmation. “So perhaps we can say yesterday was his birthday, or at least his name-day,” the Mandalorian shifted to look over his shoulder, eyeing his son in Imogen’s lap.

“That sounds good,” he said, and Imogen couldn’t stop her smile from flinching wider at the Mandalorian clearly opening up to conversation. “ _ Briikase gote'tuur _ , Ruu’Eva,” he said, swiveling his chair so he was fully facing the pair. The Mandalorian gently took Ruu’Eva from Imogen’s lap, settling him against his cuirass. “ _ Briikase _ is happy, and  _ gota’tuur _ is birthday,” he told Imogen.

“ _ Briikase gote’tuur _ ,” she parroted, leaning forward to give Ruu’Eva a kiss on his head. She didn’t miss the way the Mandalorian tensed at her proximity, and she quickly backed off. “Sorry,” she murmured, and the Mandalorian shook his head.

“It’s alright,” he responded, voice equally soft coming through the modulator. Ruu’Eva cooed at his dad, who began bouncing his thigh, causing the small green baby to giggle. Imogen’s heart swelled at the adorable sight.

“Thank you,” Imogen said after a moment of quiet. The Mandalorian tilted his head at her, as if to ask  _ what for _ . “For agreeing to teach me Mando’a, I know you aren’t a big fan of talking, so it means a lot to me,” she smiled shyly at him, and the Mandalorian inclined his helmet towards her.

“It’s not that…” he paused, and Imogen passively noticed that he paused in his speech a lot around her, not that she had observed him interacting with a lot of others. “It’s not that I don’t like to talk,” he said finally, and Imogen hummed in question. “It’s that I don’t know what to talk about,” he admitted, and Imogen smiled up at him.

“So you teach me Mando’a, and I’ll teach you conversation not involving weapons and quarries and stuff,” she said with a giggle, and her eyes widened as a huffing sound came through the modulator on the Mandalorian’s helmet, the sound seeming like a chuckle.

“Okay,” he said, and his voice sounded like he was smiling. He swiveled his chair back to face the viewport, and the three sat in comfortable silence for a while. It was when Imogen yawned that she decided she should talk to him, at least to try to keep herself awake.

“What’s your favorite color?” she blurted, and the Mandalorian jumped a bit in his seat.

“What?”

“What’s your favorite color?” she repeated, biting her lip lightly. “Or is this one of those don’t tell the Mandalorian he’s not a robot and is allowed to have personal preferences things?” she teased, and the Mandalorian chuckled again. Imogen decided she liked the sound, even though it was through the modulator of a helmet.

“Purple,” he answered, and Imogen blinked in surprise, for some reason not expecting that. She tried not to let her heart skip at the thought that her eyes were purple, so they happened to be his favorite color. It was silly to think like that. “What’s yours?” he asked after a moment.

“Green,” she said after a moment’s thought. “Like trees,” the Mandalorian nodded. He reached over to flip a couple switches and then turned to Imogen once more, having put the ship on autopilot for whenever they were to leave hyperspace. “And Ruu’Eva, I guess,” she added with a small giggle, reaching a hand out to stroke his ear, the baby cooing in response. Imogen yawned again, though she tried to stifle it in her sleeve.

“It’s not morning, you know,” the Mandalorian said after a moment, and Imogen looked at him curiously. “When you came up, you said ‘morning’, it’s still the middle of the night, you should go back to sleep,” he said, and Imogen frowned slightly.

“What about you?” she asked, and the Mandalorian shook his head.

“I’m fine,” Imogen narrowed her eyes.

“You need sleep too, honey,” she sighed, but the Mandalorian ignored her statement.

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

“What?”

“You call me those names-honey, sweetie, why?” he clarified, and Imogen shrugged.

“Well you haven’t given me your name, which I’m assuming is for a reason,” she said by way of explanation, worrying her bottom lip with her sharp teeth.

“Why don’t you call me Mando, like everyone else does?” he pressed, and Imogen scowled at the question.

“It doesn’t feel right,” she said, and the Mandalorian tilted his helmet.

“Doesn’t… feel right,” he parroted, and Imogen nodded.

“Yeah, the same way it didn’t feel right just calling Ruu’Eva kid, or if someone were to just call me ‘girl’ or ‘human’, it feels disrespectful,” she said, crossing her arms moodily.

“Oh,” the Mandalorian responded simply, standing and adjusting Ruu’Eva so he rested on his dad’s shoulder. “You should go back to sleep,” the Mandalorian pressed once more, and Imogen sighed.

“Alright,” she acquiesced, climbing down the ladder with the Mandalorian behind her. Imogen sat on her cot, and made grabby hands for Ruu’Eva. The Mandalorian chuckled again as he handed him over, and Imogen felt a bit of pride warm her chest at making him chuckle three times that night.

“Are you alright?” he asked suddenly, helmet tilting up and down as he scanned her, and Imogen flinched in confusion.

“Yeah, why?” she responded.

“You’re shivering,” he said. “Do you have enough blankets?” he asked, and Imogen nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine honey,” she said, but the Mandalorian clearly didn’t believe her. Seemingly without thinking, he unclasped his cape and swung it around Imogen’s shoulders, tying it loosely around her neck. “Oh!” Imogen gasped in surprise, hands coming up to feel the knot, and the Mandalorian just shook his head at her when she tried to untie the cape.

“ _ Nuhoy _ ,” he said, voice soft enough to conceal his smile. “Sleep,” Imogen pouted at the command, but was cut off by another yawn. The Mandalorian tilted his helmet at her as if to say  _ see? _ So Imogen grumbled as she adjusted herself so she was under her blankets, two being used as a mattress on the metal cot and two being used as actual blankets. Her eyes closed as she snuggled Ruu’Eva to her chest, both of them turning their faces unconsciously to snuggle into the Mandalorian’s cape.

* * *

Din’s chest felt full with affection as he watched the girl and his son snuggle into his cape. Imogen had fallen asleep almost instantly, Ruu’Eva not far behind, and Din sat himself in the chair he had been in earlier, content to watch over the pair.

He had to cut himself off earlier, when Imogen asked his favorite color. He had almost continued to say ‘like your eyes’ but stopped himself, feeling that it wasn’t appropriate. Of course, he couldn’t stop the fondness he had developed for her in the past two weeks, watching her care for Ruu’Eva so tenderly and listening to her just talk at him and tell stories, never once pressuring him to speak. 

He had been meaning to ask about her eyes, their odd color combined with her sharp teeth leading Din to believe that she wasn’t completely human, or at least was one of the hundreds of subhuman species around the galaxy. It fit her, in an oddly poetic way, the fact that she was subtly different physically than everyone else. Her personality reflected it, with her respect of his culture that was so rare to come by, and her kind heart that was even more rare in the Outer Rim. Din was shocked the day he hired her to see her casually having drinks with a Rodian, the species not known for being friendly, but the Rodian who was buying her drinks seemed to be her friend. He had met Aler before, on jobs or just around Nevarro, and the Rodian wasn’t very nice to people. He was civil enough to not get punched in the face, but cold enough that it was impossible to get close from what Din had observed. And the way Imogen wasn’t even scared of Din as she admired his child was refreshing. She seemed to know he was a formidable warrior, despite her lack of fear, and was content just staring since she knew she wasn’t a threat. 

“He’s probably murdered for less,” Aler’s words rang in his head, causing Din to clench his fist. At the time he had been agitated at the insinuation that he was a cold blooded murderer, but now he was furious with the idea that anyone thought him capable of harming Imogen, even though they hadn’t even spoken to each other at the time.

Oh, and when she had come into the cockpit with Ruu’Eva, hair all tousled from sleep and oversized shirt hanging off one shoulder, Din was glad that there was no way for her to read his facial expression under his helmet. Imogen was utterly adorable, and Din was starting to feel as if he needed to  _ stop thinking about her _ .

Din, who never trusted anyone, continuously shocked himself in regards to Imogen. When he had come back and froze his latest quarry in carbonite, he was frantic when he couldn’t find her and Ruu’Eva, and when she called out to him he acknowledged in the back of his mind that had she been anybody else he would’ve been upset with her. But instead she walked onto the Crest soaked through with the child in the same state, and she wasn’t freaked out by the child’s ability, or angry with Din that he had neglected to tell her about it, and then she called him Sweetie and Din just… melted. He wanted to tell her everything about himself, not just his insecurities about fatherhood, and he wanted to hold her when she was cold, but he settled for the tiny amount of opening up that he did, and the fact that now she was wearing his cape. 

The sight of Imogen nuzzling into his cape as she slept fulfilled some primal, possessive feeling in Din. He now could kind of understand why people liked when their significant others wore their clothes. 

Din stood up when he noticed Ruu’Eva stirring, and he scooped the child up into his arms.

“Come on, Ruu’Eva, let you  _ buir _ sleep, you already woke her up once tonight,” he said softly, and Ruu’Eva cooed in response. He tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair that was brushing Imogen’s nose out of her face, and then Din quietly lowered himself to the floor by her cot, amusing the child while waiting for morning, when hopefully Imogen would be well rested. Despite her only being in their lives for two weeks, it already felt like Imogen was the child’s mother. It was as if Ruu’Eva had chosen her in the same way he had chosen Din, just sticking to her like  _ ‘yep, that’s my mom right there, _ ’ and nobody had any choice in the matter.

Din didn’t really mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Su'coy - Hi  
> Briikase gote'tuur - Happy birthday  
> Gota'tuur - Birthday  
> Nuhoy - Sleep  
> Buir - Mother/Father


	4. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bounty on Tatooine prompts Din to land the Razor Crest in a familiar hangar, though he doesn’t count on Peli and Imogen getting along quite as well as they do…

This time, Imogen woke up naturally. She let out a quiet groan as she stretched her legs out under the blankets and then opened her eyes. She was surprised to see the Mandalorian sitting against the wall not far from her cot, playing with Ruu’Eva. It looked like they were… playing fetch? There was a small metal ball that Imogen had noticed Ruu’Eva was fond of playing with, and the Mandalorian was rolling it a little bit away so Ruu’Eva could waddle to retrieve the ball and then hand it back to his dad. Imogen rolled over onto her stomach to watch the adorable game.

“Thanks, Ruu’Eva,” he murmured when he was handed the ball, and the baby cooed up at him. He quickly noticed Imogen’s open eyes, turning towards her with a happy squeal. The Mandalorian’s helmet snapped to look at her, and she smiled sleepily up at him.

“Good morning,” he greeted, and Imogen nodded.

“ _ Su’cuy, _ ” she said back, sitting up and letting the blankets fall off her back. Her brows furrowed when she noticed something around her neck, and her hand lifted to feel at the cloth. Imogen’s eyes widened when she realized that she was wearing the mandalorian’s cape, the events from the night before flooding back to her brain. “Oh!” she gasped as she went to take it off.

“Keep it, I have another one,” the Mandalorian said before she could undo the knot, and Imogen stared at him, shyly biting her lip.

“Th-thank you,” she stuttered after a moment, averting her eyes. She stood when Ruu’Eva toddled over to her cot, scooping him up and kissing his cheeks. He squealed happily, tiny legs kicking around. 

“I-” the Mandalorian started, but cut himself off. Imogen raised her eyebrows, turning to look at him curiously.

“What?” she asked.

“We’ll be landing soon,” he said, though it was obvious it wasn’t what he originally wanted to say. Imogen smiled softly, slightly disappointed that he didn’t say whatever he wanted to.

“Okay,” she said, and the Mandalorian turned to ascend to the cockpit. Imogen sighed, looking at the womp rat in her arms. “You hungry?” she asked him, and Ruu’Eva cooed in response. “Alright,” Imogen murmured, grabbing a rations packet for him and a nutrient bar for herself. 

Ruu’Eva was set on being independent today, apparently. He fed himself, Imogen helping by sliding the rations packet closer whenever he made grabby hands towards it. He was even set on playing by himself, tossing the metal ball and running after it, then tossing it the other way and repeating the process. Imogen was content to sit and watch him, giggling softly whenever he was disappointed that his throw didn’t go as far as he’d hoped. She began humming to herself unconsciously, only realizing it when Ruu’Eva stopped throwing the ball to plop himself down in front of her and stare at his caretaker.

“ _ Deep in the meadow, under a willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow, _ ” she began to sing, the song being one from a vid she had seen when she was younger. Ruu’Eva cooed happily, babbling along with the song. Imogen smiled at him, reaching to her instrument case that she kept under her cot and pulling out her ukulele. She began to strum along. “ _ Lay down your head, and close your eyes, and when they open, the sun will rise, _ ” Imogen barely noticed the Razor Crest coming out of hyperspace, instead continuing to sing to Ruu’Eva, who crawled into her lap and blinked sleepily. “ _ Here it’s safe, here it’s warm, here the daisies guard you from every harm; Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true, here is the place, where I love you, _ ” she finished the song, letting the final chord ring for a moment before gently setting her ukulele down next to her, careful not to disturb the precious bundle now sleeping in her lap.

* * *

Din almost let himself be lulled to sleep as he heard Imogen’s angelic voice drift up to the cockpit. Apparently his initial assessment of her bringing an instrument case on board was correct, and he was tempted to ask her to play another song. Instead, Din piloted the Crest into the atmosphere of Tatooine, landing in Peli Motto’s bay. He saw the small woman come out of her office to narrow her eyes at the Razor Crest, her arms crossing. Somehow Din knew she wasn’t actually upset, and he powered down the Crest and went down into the hull. He did a double take when he saw Imogen sitting on the floor with Ruu’Eva on her lap.

“I don’t know what it is with my voice and putting him to sleep,” she whispered when she saw the glint of his armor. Din chuckled softly, the sound only partially masked by the modulator in his helmet.

“I have an idea,” he responded, a fond smile on his face though she couldn’t see it. Imogen carefully stood and walked over to Ruu’Eva’s bed, placing him down and tucking him in. “Do you need anything from the market?” Din asked, and his attention was drawn to Imogen’s lips as she bit softly down on her bottom one.

“Could I-Could I go?” she stuttered, and Din pondered for a moment, knowing she could handle herself but not really wanting her to be put in any danger. After a moment’s consideration and puppy eyes from Imogen that were almost as cute as the kid’s, Din nodded. 

* * *

“Thank you!” Imogen squealed, arms reaching out to hug the Mandalorian before she caught herself. She stepped back with a nervous chuckle, turning to gather some credits and her vibroblades that she kept in her boots. “How do you get Ruu’Eva’s pram to follow you?” she asked, and Mando handed her a small device that he took off his vambrace.

“This button,” he pointed to the one in the middle, and Imogen smiled.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I’m assuming you have a quarry around here?” she asked after a moment’s silence.

“ _ Elek _ ,” the Mandalorian responded. “Yes,”

“Okay,” Imogen said as she scooped Ruu’Eva up as gently as possible, lowering him into the pram and closing the lid.

“The second button is a commlink,” Din said. “It’s linked directly to my helmet,” he explained, and Imogen nodded, turning to the fresher to get dressed in new clothes. Once she was changed, she eyes the Mandalorian’s cape, and swung it over her shoulders, giggling as it brushed along the ground since she was so much shorter than him. She exited the fresher and pushed the button for Ruu’Eva’s pram to follow her, slinging a bag over her shoulder as she did.

“I’ll let you know when I’m headed back to the Crest,” she assured him, turning and walking down the ramp. As she exited she almost bumped into a woman and three repair droids. The woman had wild curly hair and was the same height as Imogen, and her eyes widened upon seeing Imogen and the pram.

“Where’s Mando?” she asked, and Imogen gestured up the ramp.

“Sunshine! Come say hi!” she called teasingly, the woman’s mouth gaping at her as the Mandalorian came into view. The woman did another double take as she noticed Imogen was wearing his cape.

“That’s new,” he said, thrusting a hand out to shake the woman’s hand. “Peli,” he greeted. “This is Imogen, she helps me with the Crest and the kid,” he explained, and the woman’s gaze turned to Imogen, scanning her up and down.

“You know your way around ships?” she asked, suppressing her urge to ask about  _ how _ close she was to the Mandalorian, and Imogen smiled.

“Anything with gears and wires,” she confirmed, and Peli nodded approvingly, turning back to the Mandalorian.

“I like her,” she said, and Imogen shot her a smile before turning to leave once more. “Sunshine,” Peli tacked on, laughing at the Mandalorian’s soft growl of annoyance. “She’s cute,” the Mandalorian just shook his head and went to the cantina where his quarry likely was.

Imogen easily found the market in the small city of Mos Eisley, the square bustling with life as vendors hawked their products. She quickly went to the stall selling bacta, having noticed the Mandalorian was running low, despite never outwardly displaying that he was injured. It was obvious that he would get hurt on some jobs, and Imogen respected that he treated himself, understanding that his creed was very particular about any skin being bared. But she still wished he would tell her when he was injured, or at least when he used bacta, because when she had opened the cabinet she was surprised to only see an almost empty jar of cream and one bacta patch.

Imogen bought a couple cans of bacta spray as well as another jar of cream and a couple more patches, thanking the vendor and then turning to look around some more. Her eyes lingered on a stall selling children’s toys, and eventually she nodded to herself, sure that the Mandalorian wouldn’t have a problem with her buying Ruu’Eva some new toys.

One stuffed bantha, two wind up toy speeders and a teething ring later, Imogen left the stall. She wasn’t sure if Ruu’Eva would need the teething ring, the child did already have all of his teeth, but Imogen had only extensively cared for one baby before, and that was one of her own species. Their sharp teeth dictated teething until well after their teeth had come in, mostly to keep the child from hurting anyone if they were to bite them by dulling their teeth down.

Imogen’s mouth watered at the smell of meat wafting over from a nearby stall, and she cringed as she tried to think of how they were doing food-wise.

“Sunshine?” she asked once she pressed the commlink button. She heard a grunt in response. “I forgot to check, do you know how we’re doing for food?” she asked, and waited a moment.

“We’re fine,” the Mandalorian answered, and Imogen hummed before shutting off the commlink. 

_ Treating myself wouldn’t hurt _ … Imogen told herself as she looked at the skewers of salted meat, almost salivating at the heavenly aroma. Before she could talk herself out of it she bought two skewers and began to make her way back to the bay where the Crest was docked.

“I’m on my way back to the Crest,” she announced into the commlink, and she heard some grunting as the Mandalorian was fighting as he responded.

“Alright,” he said, more grunts following before the commlink cut out. Imogen shrugged it off, knowing he could handle himself. She tilted her head slightly when she heard a sound, realizing that it was soft cooing coming from inside the pram. Ruu’Eva must have woken up. She opened the lid and gave the child his new bantha toy and teething ring, holding on to the wind up speeders in her bag. Ruu’Eva squealed as he hugged the stuffed bantha tightly, big eyes gazing up at Imogen as she ‘ _ awe _ ’d at his cuteness. 

A few minutes later Imogen returned to the bay housing the Razor Crest, Ruu’Eva’s pram in tow. Peli exited her office to greet her.

“I see the little one got some new toys,” she observed, Ruu’Eva still tightly holding onto his bantha. Imogen giggled.

“Yeah… some wind up speeders, too,” she said, gesturing to her bag, and Peli smiled softly at the younger woman.

“Nice,” she said. “Do you mind if I-?” Peli gestured to the child, and Imogen nodded her head in an affirmative.

“I’m assuming you’ve handled babies before, you know to be careful and everything?” she questioned as she picked Ruu’Eva up, giving him a kiss on his forehead before passing him to Peli. The Mos Eisley local nodded.

“Of course, I even took care of this one for a day or two a little back,” she said, and Imogen tilted her head curiously.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Mando needed some work and he just left the kid on the ship, probably thinking it would stay asleep,” Peli told her, and Imogen cringed. “I know, right? And so the kid woke up, obviously, and I ended up taking care of this adorable womp rat while Mando went traipsing into the desert after some mercenary,” she recounted the story of Turo, and how he had come back hoping to capture both the Mandalorian and Ruu’Eva, and by the end of the story both Imogen and Peli were sitting at a small table playing Sabaak with the repair droids. Imogen was keeping an eye on Ruu’Eva as he wandered around, but he didn’t seem to be getting into too much trouble.

“You know,” Peli began as she drew another card, both her and Imogen’s faces perfectly blank as to not give away anything. “I was really surprised when I saw you come off Mando’s ship, wearing his cape,” she raised an eyebrow at Imogen, who blushed slightly at what the woman was subtly insinuating.

“Oh!” she giggled a bit, drawing her own card. “It was really cold the other night, and he said he has two, so…” she shrugged at the end of her explanation, and Peli just hummed.

“And you call him Sunshine,” she continued, placing her bet, and Imogen chuckled.

“Today,” she said, and Peli’s eyes snapped to hers in confusion. “I change up what I call him, I refuse to call him Mando,” she explained, and Peli’s brows furrowed.

“You don’t know his name?”

“No,” Imogen raised the bet after Ruu’Eva came to sit on her lap.

“So you’re not…?” Peli trailed off, and Imogen tilted her head in confusion. “Together?” she blurted the word out, and Imogen giggled.

“No, I’ve only been on the ship two weeks,” she said, and Peli nodded.

“Ah,” she said. Both women eyed each other and the droids before everyone placed their cards face up. Peli’s eyes widened seeing Imogen’s winning hand. “But-”

“Up for a rematch?” Imogen asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

By the time the Mandalorian returned with a whining quarry in tow, Peli and Imogen had decided to stop playing for credits and switched to Strip Sabaak. Of course, not the wisest idea seeing as the Mandalorian could return at any time, but both women had downed plenty of Peli’s homebrew, which had enough alcohol content to knock the most seasoned drinkers on their ass, and they weren’t really thinking clearly. Ruu’Eva had fallen asleep around half an hour before the began Strip Sabaak, and Imogen placed him in his bed on the Crest before returning.

* * *

So imagine Din’s surprise as he entered the bay, dragging a large twi’lek male behind him, when he set eyes on two pairs of boots, socks, one pair of gloves, Peli’s bandana, and Imogen’s shirt. 

“Oh-ho,” The twi’lek began to laugh, and both he and Din finally spotted the pair of women. They had mugs in their hands, both were barefoot, and Imogen was shirtless, her bra still being on but not doing much to cover her large breasts. “I see-” Din didn’t let him finish, quickly shoving him up the ramp and freezing him in carbonite, already livid enough for some primal reason that the man had laid his eyes on Imogen’s skin. He stomped back down the ramp as he heard the women giggle.

“What the hell?” he asked, gesturing to the clothing on the ground, and he groaned when he saw the Sabaak deck on the table between Peli and Imogen. He levelled a glare at Peli, the older mechanic obviously feeling it through his helmet.

“Don’t look at me! It was her idea!” she thrust an accusing finger at Imogen, who just smiled sheepishly.

“After she gave me all that alcohol!” she shot back, thrusting her finger back at Peli. Din sighed and shook his head.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, helmet visibly avoiding pointing in Imogen’s direction. He was no stranger to ignoring his body’s needs, hunger, thirst… but he couldn’t stop a certain appendage from coming to attention after he spared a glance at Imogen’s chest. Peli seemed to notice the shift in his mood, despite his half-hard problem not being visible, and let out a forced yawn.

“Well I’m gonna hit the hay,” she said as she rose, winking at Imogen. “Thanks for the wonderful night, Imogen,” Imogen giggled back.

“Anytime, Peli,” she responded, standing and gathering her clothes, but she didn’t bother to put any on. Peli retreated to her office, where Imogen assumed her home was connected, and Imogen turned to face Din. He cleared his throat as her hair, which she had let out of the loose braid it was normally kept in brushed the swells of her breasts. Imogen seemed oblivious to the Mandalorian’s discomfort, instead marching right up the ramp to the Crest. “Ruu’Eva’s asleep,” she told Din, who just nodded at her.

After she stumbled on air for the fifth time, Din finally realized she was drunk. She was excellent at hiding it, but it explained why she was so nonchalant about being shirtless in front of him.

“You should sleep,” he said, and Imogen turned to him with a dopey smile on her face.

“Hmm, okay,” she said after a moment's thought, surprising Din by walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, giving him a quick hug. “Goodnight, Sunshine,” she said, and for once Din cursed his armor for blocking the feeling of her warm, bare torso against his chest. He said nothing, just nodded to her and ascended to the cockpit and into his room.

Din glared at his hardon as he heard Imogen humming in the hull. He was no stranger to taking care of these things… but he had a feeling tonight it would have a whole new level of intensity.

“ _ Haar'chak _ !” he groaned, beginning to take off his armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Su'coy - Hi  
> Elek - Yes  
> Haar'chak - Damn it


	5. Pumpkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorian's clan of 2 (or 3?) leave Tatooine

Imogen woke up with a soft groan, the night before coming back to bite her in full force in the form of a raging headache.

“Owie,” she murmured, sitting up with eyes still screwed shut, definitely not ready for the light that would assault them once she opened them. One hand was resting against the cot to support her weight, while the other reached up to cradle her head.

“Mando!” she heard a shout from outside the Crest, and Imogen cringed at the noise. As she slowly peeled her eyes open, she saw the ramp opening and the Mandalorian’s form in front of it. Imogen winced at the harsh Tatooine sun coming into the hull, and could barely make out the conversation.

“Peli?” the Mandalorian seemed like he was trying to be quiet, his voice a low rumble through the modulator on his helmet.

“I had a  _ killer _ hangover this morning,” Imogen heard her drinking buddy from the night before groan. “And she drank more than me, give her this,” Imogen saw Peli’s hand reach in and shove something in the Mandalorian’s open palm before her pale hand quickly retreated, and she heard the shuffling footsteps walk away. The Mandalorian regarded what was in his palm for a moment before turning to Imogen, walking over with his helmet tilted slightly away from her. Imogen wasn’t sure why at first, but then was quickly made aware of the air brushing against her bare torso. 

“EEP!” she squealed in horror, dragging the blanket up to cover her chest. “I’m sorry!” the Mandalorian paused, tilting his helmet at her.

“Here,” he said, holding his hand out and Imogen saw two pills resting in his glove. She grabbed them with a nervous smile, gulping them down.

“Thanks,” she murmured, and the Mandalorian simply nodded. He went to ascend the ladder to the cockpit, but was stopped when Imogen called out. “Pumpkin?” he paused and turned back to her. “Never let me drink again,” she heard the huff of a chuckle burst through his helmet as he turned to ascend the ladder.

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said, and Imogen giggled slightly. 

After a couple minutes just sitting up and letting her eyes get used to the light, Imogen stood up and decided to get ready for the day. She pulled on a flowy dress that she had owned forever but never worn, and smiled slightly as she looked down at the fit. It was tight around her bust and fanned out at her wide hips, and Imogen was reminded why she had liked wearing dresses before she became a full time mechanic, they made her feel pretty.

While munching on a nutrient bar, Imogen went to get Ruu’Eva from his bed. Her heart stopped when she didn’t see him in the blankets, and she whipped around to scan the hull, cringing when she saw the still open ramp off the Crest.

“Pumpkin?!” she shouted, scrambling up the ladder. The Mandalorian shot out of his chair as she came into the cockpit. “Where’s-” she cut herself off upon seeing the little green menace in his arms. Letting out a sigh of relief, Imogen shot a hand out to support herself against the copilot’s chair, having gotten a  _ major _ headrush. The Mandalorian shot his free hand out to help support her when she began tipping forward, the hand gripping her hip and guiding her into the chair. Once she was safely in the chair, he released her hip.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Imogen nodded, lamenting the loss of his grip. The pair sat in silence for a couple minutes, only interacting when Ruu’Eva started to squirm in the Mandalorian’s grip. He was passed over to Imogen, who kissed both of his cheeks and his forehead before snuggling him into her chest. He cooed up at her, one of his tiny hands reaching up to grasp at a lock of her hair as he was so fond of doing.

“I think he’s jealous,” Imogen said, her headache beginning to subside. The Mandalorian tilted his helmet at her curiously. “Of my hair,” she explained, jerking her head towards the hand wrapped around a lock of hair. The Mandalorian chuckled. “How do you say hair?”

“ _ Gemas _ ,” the Mandalorian answered, Imogen mouthing the word. “We’ll be leaving soon, if you want to say goodbye to Peli,” he said after a moment, and Imogen nodded.

“Okay,” she rose to do just that, hearing the Mandalorian’s sharp intake of breath as she did. “Are you alright?” she asked, leaning down to peer into his black visor. He startled, spine straightening as he shifted in the pilot’s seat.

“Yes!” he blurted, voice louder than normal and grating on Imogen’s hungover ears. She winced. “You-” his voice quieted, and he paused for a moment, helmet tilting up and down to scan her. “You look… nice,” he said, the last word almost inaudible under his helmet. Imogen felt warmth rise to her cheeks as she bit her lip to hide the beaming smile threatening to come out.

“Thank you,” she murmured, voice equally soft. The Mandalorian stared at her for another moment, and Imogen shifted her weight from foot to foot under his intense gaze. The moment was broken, however, when Imogen let out a loud gasp at a sudden sharp pain on her scalp, her gaze snapping to Ruu’Eva who had tugged a bit too hard on her hair. “Ow!” she gave him a glare, though it held no heat and with a coo from Ruu’Eva and a soft giggle from Imogen, all was forgiven. 

A soft blush was still on Imogen’s cheeks, and she avoided looking at the Mandalorian as she turned to the ladder.

“I’ll go say goodbye,” she said, climbing down one handed, which she had been getting rather good at. Of course, her hungover state made the task much harder than usual, so she clambered down awkwardly and stumbled once she was at the bottom. Imogen took Ruu’Eva’s hand that was in her hair and gently disentangled it, moving the child so he was at her hip, and then descended the ramp. 

Looking around for Peli, the older mechanic alerted Imogen to her presence by letting loose a sharp wolf whistle. Imogen giggled and rolled her eyes when she spotted Peli, walking over to her.

“Now that he’s seen you shirtless you’re trying to impress him?” Peli teased, elbowing Imogen softly in the ribs. The girl blushed and frantically shook her head.

“No! Of course not! I-I was drunk, and I forgot he was gonna be back, and my shirt-and,” Imogen tried to stutter out and excuse, but Peli cut her off with a loud laugh.

“Don’t stress, kid,” she soothed, placing a hand on Imogen’s shoulder. “If the way he manhandled that twi’lek is any indication, your honor is perfectly intact,” Imogen snorted.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, rolling her eyes. “Honor,” Ruu’Eva cooed, and Peli did a double take, as if noticing the green baby on Imogen’s hip for the first time.

“Why hello there!” she greeted, scooping him into her arms as her voice raised in pitch. Ruu’Eva cooed up at her. “Come to say goodbye to Aunty Peli?” she asked, and Imogen smiled fondly as she shook her head at the woman’s name for herself.

“We’ll be seeing you,” Imogen said with a smile, and Peli beamed back, pulling the younger woman in for a tight hug. 

“You bet your ass you will,” she confirmed, and Imogen turned to leave. “Tell that buckethead I want a word with him before you go!” she called after, and Imogen nodded.

“Will do!”

Imogen’s smile remained on her face as she returned to the Razor Crest, calling up to the cockpit.

“Pumpkin! Peli wants to talk to you before we leave!” she informed him, waiting for him to say something to confirm he heard her, but she didn’t hear anything. She was about to call up again when the Mandalorian jumped down to the hull, completely foregoing the ladder. Imogen let out a shriek at his sudden appearance in front of her, and the Mandalorian tensed, helmet going on a swivel to search for any danger, before he realized why Imogen had screamed.

“Pffft,” Imogen was shocked as the Mandalorian began to laugh. An actual, full body laugh, where he bent in half and placed his hands on his knees for support. The sound was beautiful, even through the modulator, and it wasn’t long before Imogen was giggling along. “Are you alright,  _ Cyar’ika _ ?” the Mandalorian asked as he tried to regain his composure, but before Imogen could ask what  _ Cyar’ika _ meant, the pair were interrupted.

“Hey Buckethead!” they heard Peli’s voice, and both Imogen and Mando straightened up, little puffs of chuckles and giggles still escaping their lips. “Everything alright? Did you kill her in there?” she shouted, and Imogen’s giggles began to get louder again.

“I’m fine!” she called, and the Mandalorian and his crewmate could almost  _ feel _ Peli’s dramatic eye roll. He shrugged, and exited the Razor Crest, going down the ramp to speak with Peli. Imogen sighed as she was finally able to calm down, taking a deep breath before plopping down to sit on her cot.

“Who knew all I had to do to get your dad to laugh was be scared shitless?” she joked to Ruu’Eva, holding him up in front of her face. The child smiled up at her, cooing and letting out a giggle of his own.

A couple minutes later, the Mandalorian returned, pressing the button to close the ramp.

“You ready, pumpkin?” Imogen asked, and he nodded.

“Do you want to take off?” he asked, and Imogen beamed up at him.

“Really?” she gasped, excited to finally be able to fly the Razor Crest.

“You said you could pilot,” he said with a shrug of his shoulder. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” Imogen’s grin didn’t falter as she dashed for the ladder, going up to the cockpit and settling into the pilot’s chair.

“Hold this!” she giggled on her way to the cockpit, thrusting Ruu’Eva into his father’s arms. The Mandalorian just shook his head at the overexcited girl, following her up at a leisurely pace. When he settled himself down into the copilot’s seat, an action that felt extremely odd for him, he chuckled softly as Imogen swung back and forth in the pilot’s seat.

“I’m gonna oil this at some point,” she said as it squeaked with each rounding motion, before she turned to the panel and began flicking switches and checking gauges. “Where are we headed?” she asked.

“Nevarro, need to collect,” the Mandalorian answered, and Imogen smiled as the Crest lifted off the ground. With ease, the girl flew them up and out of Tatooine’s atmosphere, and once they were clear of the moons, she began plugging in Nevarro’s coordinates.

“Ready for the jump?” she asked, and the Mandalorian just grunted in acknowledgement. “Here we go, then,” and she pushed down on the lever, surprised at the amount of force needed to put the ship into hyperspace. “I’ll look at that, too,” she muttered as the flashing blues and whites of hyperspace began to zip past. Imogen stood with little ceremony and crawled down the ladder to grab her tool box, quickly returning to the cockpit only to see the Mandalorian had returned to the pilot’s chair.

“Up!” she prompted, and the Mandalorian startled a bit before swiveling to face her, Ruu’Eva resting on his lap and playing drums on his cuisses. The black visor just stared at her as the Mandalorian made no attempt to get up. “Pumpkin, I got some things to fix,” she said, shaking the tool box lightly and gesturing with her free arm for him to stand up.

“Oh,” he said simply, standing and sliding past her to settle in the copilot’s seat once more.

* * *

Din watched Imogen work on the hyperdrive lever, and tried to keep Ruu’Eva entertained. Though, to say he watched her work wouldn’t be completely accurate, as Din was mostly admiring how Imogen looked in her flowy dress. She was always pretty to him, though something about the dress just made her seem so much… more. When she had stood to say goodbye to Peli, Din had noticed her outfit for the first time, and something about her looking so feminine in the dress as she held Ruu’Eva, paired with her short height stirred something in his chest.

It had just… slipped… when he had called her  _ Cyar’ika _ , as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and Din was trying very hard not to dwell on the implications of that. He was thankful when Peli interrupted them, because he  _ knew _ that Imogen would ask what it meant, and he didn’t think he was ready to divulge that piece of information.

It was as if the galaxy was conspiring against him. Or at least that’s how Din felt. First, the night before he had come back to find her shirtless, and she had hugged him, and then this morning she was wearing a pretty dress and Din wasn’t sure how much more his heart could take of his adorable crewmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Gemas - Hair  
> Cyar'ika - Darling; Beloved


	6. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorian finally gets to see Imogen fight.

It wasn’t long after the Strip Sabaak incident that Din saw Imogen fight. He had done enough digging before he hired her to know she was plenty capable of handling herself, but had yet to see her in action.

They were on Coruscant, on a low enough level that the view of the sky was blocked out by towering skyscrapers. On such a population dense planet, the biometric tracking fob that Din was given was absolutely useless, but he had managed to track the quarry to a nightclub nearby. He had brought Imogen and Ruu’Eva with him this time, a decision that he didn’t really like but was ultimately the best course of action, because being on Coruscant, Din really didn’t want to have his pseudo-family out of his sight. While it had been a big victory against the remaining Imps on Nevarro, he knew they would likely still send people after Ruu’Eva, and it was too easy for them to get overwhelmed if separated on the city covered planet. So together they were walking on a rare outdoor platform where market stalls were set up around the perimeter and little tables were scattered throughout the space.

“Love,  _ kih iviin _ !” Imogen grumbled from slightly behind him, Ruu’Eva foregoing his bassinet today and instead being carried in his caregivers arms. She was picking up Mando’a relatively quickly, and Din wasn’t sure why his heart swelled with pride and some other unnamed emotion at her using the language in public. It’s not like anyone was paying attention, there were thousands of languages spoken on the planet and probably hundreds being spoken within hearing distance, but all the same Din felt his mouth quirk up in a smile. He paused in his long strides and waited for Imogen to be at his side, and then started walking again at the same pace. It wasn’t until he looked down that he noticed the comical speed with which Imogen’s legs were moving. Since she was so much shorter than him she had to take two steps to match one of his, so next to him she looked like a small dog who was trying to keep up with their owner on a walk. Din huffed out a chuckle, finally slowing his pace slightly.

Once they crossed the square and came to the club entrance, Din turned to Imogen.

“Stay here,” he ordered, and Imogen nodded, walking over to one of the tables and plopping herself down.

“Kick ass,” she said, and Din just shook his head with a fond sigh as he turned to collect the quarry.

* * *

Imogen watched the Mandalorian disappear into the club, bouncing Ruu’Eva on her lap. Once he was out of her sight, her attention turned fully to the child, watching him coo and look around. Her brow furrowed when a shadow came over her, and she tilted her head up to see a human man with no less than three blasters visible on him, as well as what she was pretty sure was a grenade attached to his belt.

“Cute kid,” he gruffed out, voice scratchy and grating on Imogen’s ears. Her grip on Ruu’Eva tightened.

“Thanks,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on him. The two had an intense stare off, and Imogen wasn’t sure whether he was just a random local looking to pick a fight or somebody after the kid, at least until she saw his friend approaching her to her left. The other man’s hands were twitching, looking as if he were about to grab something, and it didn’t take a genius to realize he planned to grab the child. Imogen’s face shifted to a feral sneer when he lunged. She stood quickly, her left arm securely around Ruu’Eva while she bent to grab a vibroblade from her boot.

The man had clearly underestimated her, turning slowly, the crowded square masking the buzzing of Imogen’s vibroblade. When he lunged once more Imogen unceremoniously shoved her blade through his throat, quickly pushing him off of her so he wouldn’t get blood all over her and the child. He gurgled as he fell to the ground, twitching, before all movement in his body stopped. The people in the square didn’t blink twice at the violence, instead they just gave the fighters a wide berth. Before she even saw his body hit the floor, Imogen spun around to face the other man, the one who had first addressed her, to see the man had drawn his vibroblade

“Awe,” the man chuckled with a smirk on his face, drawing attention to a scar that ran along his cheek and through his lip. “Mommy has claws,” he sneered at her, and Imogen hissed at him, angling the side of her body that Ruu’Eva was tucked against away from him. The man’s smirk widened upon seeing her sharp teeth, and Imogen almost faltered in her glare in confusion. “I thought the Empire had sent the last of your kind away to Kessel,” he said casually, clearly aiming to rile Imogen up. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of showing that it was working. “Maybe I’ll bring you in with the kid, see if they pay extra,” he shrugged, before lunging for Imogen. She hopped out of the way of his blade, slashing at his shoulder where he left an opening, but he was able to withdraw before it could land. He lunged again, aiming for Imogen’s left shoulder, but when she moved to get out of the way, he quickly changed directions and pulled his blade back along her right arm, causing Imogen to let out a yelp of pain as she dropped her vibroblade. 

The man laughed cruelly as blood began to drip down Imogen’s arm, and he slowly stocked towards her, no longer perceiving her as a threat now that she was unarmed. Imogen hissed at him, seeing him lower his blade and move to grab a pair of cuffs, and she took her shot, lunging for his throat.

It was disgusting, something she had only done once before when she was desperate, but this man threatened  _ her baby _ . A primal, protective instinct surged through her body as she sank her fangs into his throat, tearing his jugular out as she pulled away. The coppery taste of blood filled Imogen’s mouth, and she was quick to spit the blood out of her mouth and onto the now dead bounty hunter’s body. She barely noticed the now staring locals, reaching for her comm link to let the Mandalorian know there had been trouble, but she was startled when she felt a gloved hand grasp her bicep, right above Ruu’Eva’s head. She whipped around, ready to show whoever dared touch her, and so close to  _ her baby _ the same treatment she had just shown the bounty hunter, but she gasped and relaxed her snarl when she saw the gleaming beskar of the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, seeing her still tense and on alert. “I have the bounty, let’s get back to the Crest,” he gently directed her back across the square, and Imogen’s chest heaved as she forced herself to calm down.

* * *

Din had exited the club with the bounty being dragged behind him just in time to see Imogen shove her vibroblade through the man’s throat. He paused in his step, assessing the other man as he pondered stepping in, but instead he resigned himself to observing until it looked like Imogen really needed the help.

“Awe,” the second man cooed at Imogen, and Din’s fist clenched. “Mommy has claws,” he teased, and Din was shocked when Imogen  _ hissed _ at him. Clearly the man was shocked as well, his eyes widening, but apparently for a different reason. Din saw Imogen’s glare falter for a moment, brow furrowing, before it was restored. “I thought the Empire had sent the last of your kind away to Kessel,” the man continued to taunt her, and Din forced himself not to tilt his helmet in confusion at the words. “Maybe I’ll bring you in with the kid, see if they pay extra,” he growled before lunging at her, and Imogen quickly dodged. Din was forcing himself to remain calm, despite his instinct to go in and fucking  _ destroy _ the man who threatened his clan. Imogen slashed at the man, but he was too quick and her hit didn’t land. The man lunged again, and both Din and Imogen saw too late that it was a fake out, the man pulling back and leaving a long cut along Imogen’s forearm. She dropped the blade in shock, and Din’s chest seized at her pained yelp.

The man laughed at her, and Din stepped forward, prepared to kill him for Imogen, but she shocked him when she lunged, face first, for the bounty hunter. Her teeth were quick to tear out his throat, and Din froze in shock at the sight. She spit the blood out onto the body after it had fallen, and reached into her pocket, probably to grab her comm link. Din finally approached her, gently grasping her uninjured arm. She startled, whipping around with teeth bared, but instead of attacking him, she relaxed once she realized who was touching her.

“It’s okay,” Din breathed, arms aching to embrace her after witnessing the fight. “I have the bounty, let’s get back to the Crest,” he urged her, keeping the gentle grip on her arm as they walked back to the Razor Crest, Din pulling the quarry behind him. Imogen said nothing the whole walk back, the only sound escaping her was a whimper of pain every once in a while when somebody would brush against her as they walked past, since Din was on her uninjured side the people would brush right against her wound.

As soon as they were on the Crest, Din froze the bounty in carbonite, and then forced Imogen to sit on her cot. He grabbed some bacta spray and bandages, as well as a towel, before kneeling in front of her. He gently pried Ruu’Eva from her grasp, noticing how she tensed when she was no longer touching him.

“Let me see,” he demanded, and Imogen numbly held out her arm. Din took off his gloves, swiping the towel over her arm to clean off the excess blood before just holding it there for a couple moments, applying pressure so he could at least slow the bleeding before putting bacta on the wound. Imogen gasped at his bare fingers on her arm, and Din deliberately ignored the fact that his bare skin was touching her. He knew he’d dwell on it later, but for now he was only focused on caring for Imogen. “Do you need anything else? Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, and Imogen shook her head before freezing.

“I-” she cut herself off, averting her gaze. “Water, and a bowl,” she murmured, and Din lifted her uninjured arm to place it on the towel.

“Hold that there,” he commanded, and Imogen dutifully did so as he grabbed her a cup of water and a bowl as she asked. He placed it next to her, and then returned to treating her wound. 

Din pulled the towel off her arm, quickly applying the bacta spray and then beginning to wrap the bandage around it. Imogen shifted slightly as he did so.

“Stop squirming,” he said, and Imogen froze once more. Din quickly finished, tying the bandage in a knot before he moved to sit next to her. He didn’t even think as his hand moved to cup her cheek, and his heart swelled when Imogen immediately pushed into his touch. “Are you alright?” he asked, and Imogen paused for a moment, thinking.

“I-I hate that,” she murmured, turning away and taking a large gulp of water, swishing it around her mouth before spitting it out into the bowl. “It’s disgusting, I hate doing it, I did it once but I was so much younger and they were trying to sell me and I hate it, I hate it,” Imogen rambled, tears welling up in her eyes, and Din returned his palm to her face, swiping a thumb across her cheek to wipe at a tear as it fell.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed her, and Imogen shook her head. Din brought his other hand up to cup her neck on the other side, forcing her to look into his visor. “Yes, it’s okay, you did what you had to to protect yourself and Ruu’Eva,” he said forcefully, and Imogen shrugged slightly before leaning forward to rest her head against his pauldron. Din sighed, gently lifting her and standing, heart breaking at the dejected look that came onto her face at his leaving.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her, quickly climbing up to the cockpit and taking off most of his armor, leaving him in a thick long sleeved shirt, dark, slightly baggy pants, and his helmet. He deposited his armor in his room before returning down to the hull, where Imogen sat in the exact same position he left her in, Ruu’Eva having toddled over to his bed and curled up. Din approached Imogen slowly, yet she still startled when he sat down next to her again. His hands came to cup her shoulder and the back of her head, and Din pulled her to his chest. Imogen immediately relaxed against him, a few tears falling from her eyes and onto Din’s shirt. “It’s okay,” Din murmured to her, scooting back so he could lean against the wall. “You’re okay, _cyar'ika_ ,” Imogen let a tiny sob escape, and Din moved one hand so his arm encircled her waist, the other going to stroke through her hair. “It’s okay,” he repeated, and Imogen began to cry in earnest.

Eventually Imogen’s hiccupping breaths subsided, and her eyes slid closed, falling asleep nestled against the Mandalorian’s warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations  
> Kih iviin - Slow down; literally "small speed"  
> Cyar'ika - Darling; beloved


	7. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorian and Imogen share a tender moment

“Huh?” Imogen’s eyes opened the smallest amount possible as she felt herself being jostled. She was lifted by a pair of strong arms before being placed gently back on her cot.

“ _ Yaimpar nuhoyir, cyar’ika _ ,” the Mandalorian’s voice commanded, and though she only understood the word  _ nuhoyir _ , sleep, his voice sent a pleasant warmth throughout her body, and she succumbed to the drowsiness that was intent on pulling her under as she heard the clunking of boots climbing up the ladder.

Several hours later, Imogen awoke once more, this time feeling well rested and ready to get up and face the day. She was facing the wall, and she just laid there for a moment, blinking heavily to get the sleep out of her eyes.

“Where did you get a wind up speeder?” the Mandalorian’s shocked voice traveled over to her, and Imogen sat up, turning to face him and Ruu’Eva. 

“That would be-” she cleared her throat, noticing her voice was all scratchy from sleep. “That would be me,” she said, flashing the Mandalorian a sheepish smile.

“He tried to kill me,” he exclaimed, arms flopping up and back to his sides dramatically, and Imogen froze in shock, before sputtering with laughter.

“How did he try to kill you?” she asked between bouts of giggles and laughter, and the Mandalorian placed his hands on his hips, trying to seem stern, but the shaking of his shoulders betrayed his amusement.

“He zipped it right under my foot when I was walking!” he said, the chuckles beginning to bubble out of his mouth, and soon enough both Imogen and the Mandalorian were roaring with laughter, and Ruu’Eva, though confused as to why his caretakers were so amused, joined in with cooing giggles of his own. Imogen stood, walking over and swooping down to lift Ruu’Eva and place kisses on both of his cheeks and forehead before resting him against her hip.

“Well what can I say?” Imogen got out once the pair was starting to calm down, both able to properly breathe again. “Your son is a menace,”

“Our,” Imogen froze, a tentatively hopeful smile coming onto her face as she peered up into the Mandalorian’s visor.

“Our?” she questioned, and the Mandalorian didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Our son,”. Imogen’s small smile widened, and she knew she must look ridiculous to the Mandalorian, grinning like a fool with joyful tears welling in her eyes.

* * *

Imogen had never looked more beautiful to Din than she did in that moment. Her eyes were full of such admiration for both him and his son, and were Din anything  _ but _ a Mandalorian, he was sure he would have crashed his lips against hers…

But instead, he settled for the next best thing, stepping slowly towards her. He leaned down, and a hand reached around her to cup the back of her neck, pulling her towards him, and rested the crown of his helmet against the top of her head. While usually, it would be crown to crown, their height difference was so comical that the most comfortable way was for his face to be pointed directly down as his helmet rested on the top of her head. He closed his eyes, basking in the moment for a precious few seconds, before pulling away.

He breathed out a fond chuckle at the pretty pink that was blossoming across Imogen’s cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze, biting her lip. He knew it was in no way intentional, but everytime she did so his attention snapped right to her full lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss her, and Din knew it was only a matter of time before he said something stupid- something like  _ Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Yaimpar nuhoyir - Go back to sleep  
> Cyar'ika - Darling  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you


	8. Muffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imogen comes to the Mandalorian's rescue... kind of-I'm sure he had it handled...

Things shifted after the tender moment shared over Ruu’Eva. It wasn’t entirely noticeable, but the Mandalorian was more relaxed around Imogen, he spoke more unprompted. And Imogen was no longer hesitant with her physical affection.

She was a snuggler at heart, and while snuggling with Ruu’Eva was well and good, that night where she fell asleep against the Mandalorian’s chest was pure bliss. She was no longer shy about reaching for his hand, or resting her head on his pauldron after a long day spent chasing Ruu’Eva around the Crest or wherever they had landed to pick up a quarry.

“What are you smiling about?” the Mandalorian asked, breaking Imogen out of her thoughts. She startled slightly.

“Why do I have to be smiling about something specific?” she countered with a soft blush. “Can’t I just be smiling for the hell of it?”

“Not when you stopped playing 5 minutes ago and have just been staring off into space since,” the Mandalorian chuckled a bit, and Imogen looked down at her ukulele that was still in her hands.

“Huh,” she muttered, reaching under her cot and putting her treasured instrument away. She looked around after replacing the case under her cot, and her brows furrowed. “Muffin, where’s Ruu’Eva?” she asked, and the Mandalorian heaved a heavy sigh.

“You never should have gotten me a cape with a hood,” he groaned, turning and showing Ruu’Eva tucked snugly in his hood. Imogen giggled, knowing Ruu’Eva had probably climbed in there when the Mandalorian was sitting and refused to leave.

“Well you never should have lied about having two,” she said softly, hand unconsciously going to his cape that he had gifted her, which was currently draped over her cot. The Mandalorian snorted and shook his head, not deigning her comment with a verbal response. Imogen stood from where she had sat cross legged on the floor, still giggling softly, and grabbed Ruu’Eva from the Mandalorian’s hood.

“How do you say dad, in Mando’a?” she asked, and the Mandalorian turned back to face her, helmet tilting at a soft angle whose meaning Imogen had yet to decipher.

“ _ Buir _ ,” he answered, and Imogen smiled brightly as she lifted Ruu’Eva so he was level with her face.

“You stay out of you  _ buir _ ’s hood, okay?” she scolded him, and laughed a bit when his ears drooped in fake guilt. They had found a little bit ago that he understood most of what they said, even if he wasn’t capable of words yet. “You’ll end up choking him, or something,” Ruu’Eva cooed, reaching for Imogen’s face, and she sighed, knowing she had lost his attention. She pulled him closer so he rested against her shoulder, and his hands happily grabbed onto a lock of hair each. 

* * *

“What is it with my hair?” Imogen murmured, brows pinching together adorably. Din shrugged.

“It’s nice hair,” he answered, and Imogen gaped up at him, the blush that had faded from earlier returning full force. She tried to stutter out something, but Din beat her to it. “Besides, you’re wearing it down, of course he’s taking advantage of it,” he said, and Imogen bit her lip softly. Din heaved a sigh.

“There’s a quarry in a nearby market, if you want to join?” he asked, voice hesitant. Imogen beamed up at him and nodded.

“Of course!” she answered, and Din nodded, striding over to her cot and picking up his cape that he had given her. He motioned her over, and Imogen dutifully walked up so she was standing directly in front of him. With a flourish, Din draped the cape over her shoulders, tilting his head in admiration at the adorable way it swamped Imogen’s form. He pinned it in place with a mudhorn clip, and Imogen’s brows furrowed as she looked at it.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s my clan’s signet,” he answered her, hands resting on her shoulders. He angled his helmet towards his pauldron, where his own signet was, and Imogen’s attention was drawn to it. “The armorer made it, last time I was on Nevarro,” he told her, and Imogen smiled up at him.

“I swear the armorer is more your therapist than a blacksmith,” she giggled, and Din shrugged.

“She’s a leader,” he countered. “An advisor,”

“And she’s okay with me being in the clan?” Imogen asked, and Din sighed fondly at the confused sparkle in her eye.

“She doesn’t get a say,” Imogen’s brows flinched together in confusion. “You know about that day on Nevarro,” he began to explain. “With Moff Gideon,” Imogen nodded. “She told me then that Ruu’Eva is in my charge, not that I needed telling,” Imogen giggled softly. “And said we were a clan of two,” he waited for Imogen to catch on, admiring the way he could see her thought process reflected on her face.

“Oh,” she said softly, pink returning to her cheeks. Din secretly made it his goal to turn them permanently pink, adorably flustered looked good on her. “So I’m a part of  _ your _ clan,” she put the emphasis on  _ your _ , and Din nodded, stepping back and pressing a button on his vambrace, calling the pram forward.

“We should get going,” he said, and Imogen nodded, depositing Ruu’Eva in the pram and following Din off the Razor Crest.

The town was only a couple minutes away from where Din had landed, so soon enough the clan of three found themselves in a sparsely populated marketplace with a thin blanket of snow covering the ground and roofs of stalls and buildings. Din pulled out the tracking fob, turning slightly back and forth until it started beeping faster, and he followed it to a cantina.

* * *

“Are they always drinking when you find them?” Imogen asked, having noticed a trend of where the Mandalorian tended to pick up quarries. Her companion chuckled with a shrug.

“They’re just always drinking,” he answered, and Imogen giggled slightly and followed him into the cantina, figuring the Mandalorian would handle the bounty easily enough and she could get some soup or something for herself and Ruu’Eva.

It was the first time Imogen had been with the Mandalorian when picking up a quarry, and she admitted to herself that it was quite a power trip walking in with him and hearing the cantina immediately go silent, and seeing all heads turn to watch the beskar clad warrior leisurely stride in, knowing that he wasn’t-that he  _ couldn’t _ be here for a drink. Imogen had an idea of what was probably going through all of their heads, having had a similar train of thought before the Empire’s demise, when an officer had walked in and even though Imogen kept her teeth religiously filed down during their reign, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if someone had turned her in, tipped off the Empire. She was willing to bet that every living soul in that cantina was now asking themselves who they had crossed who would potentially put a bounty on their heads.

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet to her, as if to tell her to go get some food, and Imogen quickly waltzed up to the bar and ordered two bowls of bone broth. She could hear the tense intakes of breath coming from everyone the Mandalorian passed, and Imogen settled herself at a corner table, leaving Ruu’Eva in his pram for the time being.

It was when the Mandalorian went behind a curtain at the back of the cantina that Imogen started to feel a weird pit in her stomach. Everyone else breathed sighs of relief at the knowledge that the Mandalorian wasn’t there for them, and though Imogen knew how capable her shipmate-clanmate was, she couldn’t shake the sudden feeling of unease.

It was as if Ruu’Eva sensed it as well, and he began to coo up at her nervously, fidgeting. Imogen sighed, tossing a couple of credits on the table and striding to the curtain.

“I’ll make sure he’s okay,” she reassured her little green gremlin of a son before pressing the button to close the lid on his pram. There were no sounds of protest, as if he understood that she didn’t want to have to worry about him  _ and _ the Mandalorian in a dangerous situation. 

The sound of a loud  _ crash _ from behind the curtain urged Imogen to run in, and she found her instinct had been correct, there was trouble.

The Mandalorian was surrounded by a dozen men, a couple holding blasters but a couple held long metal shafts that Imogen could vaguely remember being used to shock uncooperative animals. Her gaze narrowed when one of the men lunged forward, the Mandalorian dodging but he quickly crumpled to his knees when a second man shot a stream of electricity at him.

Imogen pulled her vibroblades out of her boots, switching them on, and once the sounds of the grunting Mandalorian began to subside, the aggressors tilted their heads, wondering where the buzzing was coming from. Imogen rushed them before they could react, her blades going through two men’s throats at the same time before side stepping and avoiding the prod swung in her direction. She kept one of her blades in her victim’s neck, swinging his body to shield her against blaster fire coming from her left as she threw her other blade into the man attempting to prod her’s eye.

The Mandalorian swung into action at this point, engaging with the men to Imogen’s left as she finally withdrew her blade from her human shield’s neck and lunged for one of the blaster wielders. He fired a shot but Imogen was already upon him, efficiently stabbing up under his chin and turning towards another. In the background she was aware of the Mandalorian taking on 4 men, but seemingly not aware of the fifth, a large man without a weapon sneaking up behind him with arms outstretched as if he were going to grab the Mandalorian.

“Muffin!” she called, seeing his helmet tilt toward her briefly before refocusing on his attackers, indicating he heard her. The corners of Imogen’s lips quirked up into an amused smirk when she saw the confused gazes of their attackers, and she slashed the man she had engaged across the chest, not staying to see if it killed him but knowing he was definitely incompacitated for the moment. “Duck!” the Mandalorian didn’t think twice before complying, Imogen shoving her way between two of the men he was facing and jumping over the Mandalorian’s hunched body to deliver a kick to the man behind him’s face.

The man was big, and Imogen’s kick had done little more than stun him before he was smirking disgustingly and charging for her. Imogen met his charge by running towards him and then sidestepping before they met, slashing under his outstretched arms as she passed him. The man howled in pain as he came to a stop and whipped back around to face her. Despite blood dripping down his side and from his nose, he rushed for Imogen once more, and she quickly backed away from him, eyes scanning for an opening to exploit before he reached her.

He never got to, however, stopping just short of her with a groan and falling on his face, a blaster wound in the back of his head. Imogen looked up to see the Mandalorian lowering his blaster, and the bodies of the remaining attackers piled next to him.

“Thanks, Muffin,” she called, and the Mandalorian sighed in fake frustration.

“Why did I have to be  _ Muffin _ today?” he grumbled, and Imogen burst out into giggles as she collected her vibroblade that was in one of the body’s eye and walked back to Ruu’Eva’s pram, opening the lid. “Not very fearsome to hear in the middle of a battle,” Imogen continued to sputter with laughter as she turned to look at the bodies and her Mandalorian warrior.

“Which one of them is the quarry?” she asked, and this time the Mandalorian groaned with real frustration.

“None, it was a set up,” he said, and Imogen’s shoulders drooped.

“Oh,” she said dumbly, turning and heading through the curtain with Ruu’Eva’s pram following closely behind her. After a moment the Mandalorian emerged as well, and the trio exited the cantina.

“Let’s get back,” the Mandalorian said, leading the way to the Razor Crest, and Imogen followed dutifully.

* * *

“What do you want me to call you?” Imogen’s question startled Din, the pair having been sitting on the floor watching Ruu’Eva play with one of the wind up speeders.

“What?” Din asked, turning to fully face her.

“If you-” Imogen heaved a breath. “If you don’t like what I call you, do you want me to call you something else?”

“No!” Din exclaimed, realizing his voice was probably louder than necessary when Imogen flinched back. “I… like the names,” he muttered, a hand coming to nervously scratch the back of his neck over the collar of his shirt. Imogen pouted slightly.

“But-”

“I was joking,  _ cyar’ika _ ,” he soothed, bringing a hand to rest on her cheek. “Don’t worry,” Imogen sighed before nodding, and leaned down to rest her head on his shoulder. “Sit up for a second,” Din commanded, and Imogen did so, looking at him curiously. Her eyes followed his hands as he tore his gloves off and set them to the side, and then he reached to press a release button under his arm, his cuirass breaking into two parts with a  _ hiss _ . Din grabbed the two metal pieces and put them to the side, tugging off his pauldrons and vambraces as well before settling back against the wall.

“Okay, c’mere,” he murmured, and Imogen quickly snuggled into his side.

“You still haven’t told me what that means,” she whispered, giggling a bit as Ruu’Eva fell on his face chasing after the speeder before jumping up and continuing, completely uncaring that he had fallen.

“It’s…” Din trailed off, deciding to forego a direct translation. “A term of endearment,” he said instead, and Imogen hummed.

“ _ Cyar’ika _ ,” she repeated, eyes closed as she grabbed Din’s hand that was resting on his abdomen, the other being on her bicep as his arm was thrown around her shoulder. “So I can call you that?” she asked, and Din tensed.

“It’s not-” he cut himself off with a deep intake of air. “It’s special, something intimate,” he explained, not wanting her to use it without understanding that it wasn’t the same as her playful pet names she gave him.

“So I’ll only use it when it’s just us,” Imogen said, shrugging as if it were the most simple thing in the world, and to her it probably was, she had no idea, after all, that it was a term reserved for lovers. Maybe Din was taking advantage of the fact that she didn’t know by calling her it, allowing himself to at least pretend in the seconds it took for him to call her by it that she was his in the way he longed for her to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Buir - Mom/Dad/Parent  
> Cyar'ika - Darling; Beloved


	9. Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorian is collecting his reward money on Nevarro, and decides it's about time to bring Imogen to meet the folks

It was time to collect, and so the clan of three was back on Nevarro. The Mandalorian went straight to the rebuilt cantina to talk to Greef Karga, and Imogen decided to just wander around the market.

“Imogen?” she heard a gasp behind her, before she was lifted up off the ground with a squeak. “Imogen!” Aler laughed, spinning her around before setting her on the ground once more.

“Hey Aler!” she greeted, blowing a stray tuft of hair that had come loose from her braid out of her face.

“Are you alright?” he immediately asked, and Imogen’s brows furrowed in confusion when Aler kept his hands on her shoulders and scanned her from head to toe.

“Yeah,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” her arms crossed over her chest as she stepped back, and Aler shrugged.

“Well, you left with the Mandalorian,” he said, as if that was enough of an explanation for his concern, but Imogen was still confused.

“Yes,” she said, raising her eyebrows and gesturing with her hand for him to go on.

“I just wanted to make sure he didn’t bum you out too much,” Aler shrugged again, and Imogen’s eyes narrowed in an indignant glare as she processed his words.

“I’ve had fun,” she said curtly, voice wiped of all emotion.

“But-”

“I’ve had fun,” she repeated, more forceful. “Thanks for your concern, Aler,” and she swept past him, hearing Aler’s gasp as he noticed Ruu’Eva, who was strapped to her back.

“Baby!” she heard a voice shout, and she whipped around with her glare still in place, ready to take on any threat to her baby. Her gaze softened when she saw Greef walking beside her Mandalorian with a large smile, arms outstretched. The Mandalorian walked slightly ahead of his guild contact, reaching Imogen first and scooping Ruu’Eva out of his harness. Karga was quick to snatch him, the movement bold, but he had earned the Mandalorian’s trust once more, some time between Ruu’Eva healing him when the Mandalorian was still wanted and Imogen being hired.

Imogen’s lips quirked into a smile as Ruu’Eva cooed up at the man, whose gaze fell on her next. 

“And you must be the lovely Imogen,” he said, extending a hand in greeting while the other held Ruu’Eva against his side. “I’ve seen you around but never had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Greef Karga,” he introduced himself, shaking Imogen’s hand when she placed it in his.

“Well, you seem to already know my name,” she shrugged with a light hearted chuckle, throwing a look in the Mandalorian’s direction. “I’m sure I have Sugar here to thank for that,” A laugh sputtered out of Karga’s lips.

“Sugar?” he repeated, looking at the Mandalorian with a mirthful gaze. The Mandalorian simply pointed at him.

“Not a word,” he growled, and Karga held up his free hand in surrender. 

Soon enough they parted ways, Karga returning to the cantina, and the Mandalorian taking Imogen through a couple back streets and alleyways.

“If I didn’t know any better, Sugar,” Imogen giggled as the Mandalorian tilted his helmet to her to show he was listening. “I’d say you were taking me someplace to murder me,” the Mandalorian huffed out a chuckle with a shake of his head.

“Come on,” his hand grabbed hers, and Imogen tried to will away the warmth that spread on her cheeks at the action. There had been handholding before between the pair, but here, on Nevarro, it seemed more intimate. They knew people here, it was as close to a ‘home base’ as you could get for the pair, especially the Mandalorian considering this is where the covert was. 

They went through a couple more twists and turns before disappearing behind a random curtain. Imogen’s brows furrowed as the Mandalorian led her to a staircase going down, and soon they were under the city.

“Well, well,” Imogen gasped at the deep, booming voice that echoed around the hallway they were in, head whipping to see another Mandalorian, this one taller and bulkier than hers, approaching them. “He’s brought a girl home,”

“Paz,” her Mandalorian greeted, ignoring the other’s teasing.

“And what’s your name?” the hulking Mandalorian asked, helmet turning to face Imogen.

“I’m Imogen,” she answered, thrusting her hand out, and the Mandalorian called Paz let out a booming laugh at the action, causing Imogen to flinch back, withdrawing her hand. 

“Cute,” was all Paz said as he brushed past Imogen and her Mandalorian.

* * *

“Sugar, did I do something wrong?” Imogen asked her Mandalorian as Paz was walking away, and Din cringed as he remembered she didn’t know that a Mandalorian’s helmet had built-in hearing enhancers.

“Sugar?” Paz boomed, stomping back over to them. “You call him  _ SUGAR _ ?” Imogen cringed, shuffling so that she was partially hidden behind Din’s shoulder, and he squeezed her hand in reassurance that it was okay.

“S-since I don’t know-know his name,” Imogen stuttered out an explanation, and Paz humphed. “But it-it’s not always S-Sugar,” Paz tilted his helmet at her before turning back to Din.

“ _ Copikla _ ,” he said, and though he knew Imogen couldn’t tell, Din could basically feel Paz’s smirk under his helmet. Imogen still bristled, Din having explained to her the insult of calling a woman cute in Mando’a,  _ copikla _ being a phrase reserved for animals and babies.

“ _ Ne'johaa! _ ” he growled, and Paz laughed as he walked away again.

“So can I rip his head off?” Imogen asked, and Din barked out a laugh when Paz froze for a moment before continuing to walk away.

“Not right now,” he answered, and Imogen sighed dejectedly as Din led her further through the tunnels.

“Why did you bring me this time?” Imogen asked after a minute or two of walking, and Din paused, remembering the last time he had spoken to the armorer, last time they had been on Nevarro.

_ “Din,” the armorer said as they sat together, just catching up. Imogen was closer than she thought when she had said the armorer seemed more like his therapist, she was his close friend. He tilted his helmet at her. “I need to meet this girl,” she said, and Din tensed. _

_ “Why’s that?” he asked, and the armorer reached over and grabbed his hand, shoving something into his palm.  _

_ “I believe in some cultures it marks a certain stage of a relationship to bring someone to meet the family,” she said, and Din could hear the amusement in her voice. _

_ “We’re not-” _

_ “It’s inevitable,” she cut him off, and Din froze, saying no more since he knew that it was at least inevitable that he would tell Imogen how he feels, no matter how far in the future it was. The armorer withdrew her hand and Din looked down and gasped, seeing a pin with his signet, the Mudhorn. “For her,” the armorer said, and Din looked back up at her. _

_ “Thank you,” he said, voice flooded with emotion. _

“The armorer wanted to meet you,” he said, and saw how Imogen’s shoulders tensed.

“That’s not intimidating at all, Sugar,” she muttered sarcastically, and Din chuckled as he threw an arm around her shoulders, forcing them to relax.

“Relax,” he soothed, Ruu’Eva cooing from his place on his dad’s hip, where he had been mostly silent. It was then that he heard the clinking of armor, and he led Imogen the final bit of the way to where the armorer was already walking towards them.

“Hello,” she greeted, and Din nodded at her.

“H-hi,” Imogen breathed. The armorer tilted her helmet as she appraised her, before turning to Din.

“She’s… tiny,” she said finally, Din huffing out a laugh at that being her first thought.

“She’s right here,” Imogen shot back, not liking the two warriors talking, literally, over her head. The armorer laughed lightly.

“Apologies,  _ ad’ika _ ,” she bowed her head, and Imogen sighed. “What name have you chosen for him today?” the armorer asked after another moment of silent appraisal, and Imogen startled.

“What?” she asked, voice quiet.

“What name have you chosen for him today?” the armorer repeated her question, and Imogen turned her head to raise an eyebrow at Din.

“Sugar,” she answered, and the armorer chuckled softly. “I told you she was your therapist,” the armorer full on laughed at that, and Din shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, this time the blush being on his face, not that anyone else was aware of that.

“Close enough,” the armorer nodded, swiftly turning and walking back to the forge, abruptly ending their conversation.

“Nice to meet you?” Imogen called after her, voice raising in an unsure question at the end, and the armorer paused in her steps to turn their helmet back to face Imogen.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” she said, and then went behind the curtain at the end of the hallway. Imogen’s face was adorably lost, and Din let out a chuckle as he led her back to the streets and then onto the Razor Crest.

“She likes you,” he said as he closed the ramp of the ship.

“Does she?” Imogen raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Yes,  _ cyar’ika _ ,” he said fondly, and Imogen smiled at him. They both climbed up to the cockpit, Din settling in the pilot’s chair after handing Ruu’Eva to Imogen, and she sat in the copilot’s seat with their son on her lap. “How do you feel about a little vacation?” he asked as he started the engines, and Imogen hummed in question.

“Vacation? Where to?” she asked, clearly wondering where the big bad Mandalorian went for vacation.

“Just a backwater skughole called Sorgan,” he said, and soon they were jumping through Hyperspace to the swampy planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Copikla - Cute, for animals and babies, never women unless you want your head ripped off  
> Ne'johaa - Shut up  
> Ad'ika - Little One  
> Cyar'ika - Darling; Beloved


	10. Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imogen is brought to meet another branch of the Mandalorian's odd family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in case you guys couldn't tell, when the story refers to the Mandalorian as Din, it's narrating from his point of view except in third person, and when he is the Mandalorian, it's Imogen's point of view

The Mandalorian had told Imogen about Sorgan before, when he had recounted to her the story of how he had acquired his green gremlin of a son. She was slightly nervous to meet the village, specifically Cara Dune, who despite him not having verbally acknowledged it, was probably the Mandalorian’s best friend. After the battle on Nevarro, apparently, she had stayed for a week before returning to Sorgan and immediately dropping to one knee in front of Omera when she got back to the village.

Imogen thought it was sweet, and despite having never met the ex shock trooper, she was happy that she was finally able to settle down and be at peace with the woman she had grown to love.

“Relax,” the Mandalorian said, leaning down so his helmet was right next to her ear as he muttered to her. The two were walking towards the village, and Imogen could hear the sounds of life-children’s laughter and the clanging of tools. 

“I am relaxed,” she shot back, and could almost _feel_ the Mandalorian roll his eyes.

“Sure,” he said, shrugging and moving away, and before Imogen could even think to miss his proximity, he was back with a heavy hand on her shoulder. Imogen shrieked and jumped back. “Completely relaxed,” her eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

“That wasn’t ni-”

“Mando!” a woman’s voice cut her off, and the Mandalorian and Imogen turned to face the dark haired woman striding towards them. She had a large smile on her face, and Imogen’s eyes glancing at her bicep confirmed her suspicion that the approaching woman was Cara Dune, or at least had her chain code.

“Cara,” The Mandalorian greeted, and though most who didn’t know him would think his voice was monotone, both Imogen and Cara could hear the abundance of warmth in his voice. The two embraced, giving each other a friendly slap on the back before pulling away. Ruu’Eva cooed from his place in Imogen’s arms, and Imogen set him down so he could waddle over.

“Hey womp rat!” Cara beamed at the child, swooping him into her arms and giving his ears some soft strokes. It was then her eyes rose and she finally appraised Imogen, watching as the much shorter fidgeted under her analyzing gaze.

“This is Imogen,” the Mandalorian introduced, motioning for her to join them, and Imogen took slow steps towards them, at least until she was within arms reach and the Mandalorian’s hand shot out to grab her arm, pulling her into his chest.

“Oof,” she stumbled into him, her forehead banging uncomfortably on his pauldron. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, and Imogen snorted.

“We both know you’re not, Dear,” she patted his bicep as she stood straight, hand drifting down his arm to grasp his as she turned to face Cara. “You’re Cara, right?” she asked, and the woman nodded, a smirk on her face.

“You call him Dear?” she asked, and the Mandalorian heaved a heavy sigh as he picked Ruu’Eva up.

“I’m going to go greet everyone else,” Cara snickered as he walked away, and Imogen enlightened her on the different things she had called the Mandalorian.

* * *

“Omera,” Din called, walking up to the woman, who turned to face him with a beaming smile. “I haven’t seen you since…” he trailed off, leaving the woman to fill in the blank. “Congratulations,” his helmet tilted obviously at her hand, where a pretty but simple engagement ring rested.

“Thank you,” she said, hand going to fiddle with it. “Cara said you were bringing a companion, I can find a separ-” Din cut her off.

“No!” he almost shouted, and Omera jumped. Din sighed awkwardly. “I… would prefer for her to be close,” Omera’s smile turned into a cheshire grin.

“So you’ve brought a girl home,” she teased, and Din rolled his eyes, not that she could see.

“You’re the second person to make that joke,” he groaned, and Omera just raised her eyebrows at him.

“Is it a joke, Mando?” she challenged, and Din’s breath caught in his throat. Instead of answering her, he swung around and returned to Cara and Imogen, dropping Ruu’Eva off with the village children on the way. He immediately grew suspicious when the two women immediately stopped talking at his approach, turning to face him with matching grins.

“You two seem to be getting along,” he commented, voice filled with trepidation as he slowed his approach, steps cautious.

“Swimmingly,” Cara confirmed, sending a smirk in Imogen’s direction before the two women burst into fits of giggles.

“This is… strange,” he said, beginning to feel very unnerved at their behavior. “What were you talking about?” he asked, and both Imogen and Cara shook their heads.

“A lady never tells, Dear,” Imogen giggled as she and Cara walked past him arm in arm.

“What?” he muttered under his breath as they passed, quickly turning to trail them. “What is it?” he asked, voice louder as he came to be behind the two women.

“Nothing,” Imogen hummed, and Cara continued to snicker as they walked through the village.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be staying,” Cara said, but Din grabbed her forearm to stop her. 

“I got it,” he said, and Cara furrowed her brows at him.

“Do you even-”

“I got it,” he repeated, more forceful, and Cara’s face broke into a smirk.

“I see,” she purred, turning and walking away. “I’m gonna find Omera,” she winked at the pair as she strutted away, and Din and Imogen turned to awkwardly stare at each other for a tense moment before bursting out into laughter. The sound startled Cara enough that she turned around and almost ran back to them, but instead of commenting she just did a 180 and continued on her way, already seeing how smitten the Mandalorian was with Imogen. Though she had been informed by the armorer… not that either women would admit to keeping in contact to Din.

“No really, what were you guys talking about?” Din pressed as he took Imogen’s hand and led her to the barn where he had stayed during his last time on Sorgan. Imogen giggled, tugging on his hand to get him to stop walking and come towards her. Her hand reached up, and Din tensed as it went over his shoulder, but almost too soon she was pulling away with Ruu’Eva’s stuffed bantha toy in her hand. “What?”

“Your hood,” Imogen said as an explanation, her giggles continuing, and Din’s eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at her.

“How long was it there?” he asked, and Imogen just smiled innocently at him.

“Since we left the ship,” she answered, and Din groaned. “Come on, Dear, where are we staying,” Imogen nudged him, and Din shook his head with a chuckle, finding himself unable to even be frustrated with his companion at the practical joke. He led her the last bit of the way to the barn, and upon arriving Imogen let out a soft ‘oh’.

“You’re okay with this?” she asked, and Din nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I asked for this,” he answered, and relished in the blush that was quick to spread on Imogen’s cheeks. “It’s…” he took another deep breath, trying to think of how to put his scrambled thoughts into words. “It’s easier for me when you’re close,” he said finally, and Imogen’s brows pinched together.

“What is?”

“Everything,” Imogen’s mouth formed an ‘o’ at that, and the blush went from a soft hue of pink to a fiery red. Din didn’t even think when he raised a hand to cup her cheek, thumb stroking the skin softly. Imogen smiled shyly at him, leaning her head down in what had become their non verbal sign that she wanted cuddles. Din pulled her to his chest, this time more gentle than he had been outside with Cara, and tucked her face into his neck between the cuirass and helmet. “You make everything easier, _cyar’ika_ ,” he breathed, and Imogen’s breath hitched.

* * *

The pair stood like that for a long while, and Imogen just basked in his scent, a heady combination of blaster powder and whatever polish he used for his armor and a tang that was just… him. 

“Where’s Ruu’Eva?” Imogen mumbled against the Mandalorian’s neck, reluctant to let go.

“With the other children,” he answered, and Imogen nodded slightly. They both jumped when a loud growl filled the tent, and Imogen blushed when she realized that the noise was her stomach. “We should get dinner, _cyar’ika_ ,” he said softly, beginning to pull away, but Imogen tightened her hands where they had tangled in his cape.

“Can’t we stay like this a little longer?” she pleaded, voice small. The Mandalorian sighed, seeming like he was about to indulge her in a couple more precious moments of cuddles, but Imogen’s stomach grumbled again, louder than before. He heaved out a heavy, tired sigh.

“You need to eat,” he said, pulling away and pulling her to the fire some villagers had started up, where more began to pour into the clearing for a communal meal.. Imogen was thankful for his hand remaining in hers, happy to keep some form of contact with him. Cara and Omera both teased the Mandalorian when they saw him holding her hand, but he didn’t pull away, instead his grip just tightened as he continued on his quest to get Imogen some food. 

Soon enough the sun had set and the child was conked out on Imogen’s lap, the woman beginning to doze herself in front of the fire. She jolted when a shoulder nudged hers.

“Let’s go to bed, _cyar’ika_ ,” the Mandalorian suggested, and Imogen blushed at the double meaning it could hold. Cara and Omera were heard snickering at the other end of the fire, but the Mandalorian paid them no mind as he pulled Imogen up and to their tent.

That night Imogen slept curled up against the Mandalorian’s chest, their hands clasped together resting against Ruu’Eva’s back, who was taking up the little space on his chest left from Imogen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Cyar'ika - Darling; Beloved


	11. Din

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some big reveals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Mentions of noncon, slavery, and sexual slavery, as well as just general shitty things...

They had spent another week on Sorgan, and Imogen was ecstatic to be treated like part of the close knit community. She had spent a lot of the day playing with the children and keeping them entertained, seeing as that was normally Omera’s job, apparently.

“You spend time with your fiancée,” she had prompted, and Omera’s gaze had flitted over the children nervously. “I’ll watch them, you deserve some time with Cara,” she pressed, and eventually Omera gave in. Imogen had noticed the Mandalorian watching her with the children many times, and every time she caught him he would turn his helmet away, pretending to be gazing at something else. It was endearing, and Cara never missed an opportunity to tease him about it.

Though after they departed, Imogen realized that the Mandalorian had an ulterior motive for their week long vacation.

“There’s a quarry somewhere on Corellia,” he told her as he landed in a long term bay.

“Somewhere?” she asked nervously, and the Mandalorian had stilled for a moment before curtly nodding his head.

“I don’t know how long it’ll take,” he said, gearing up, and Imogen bit her lip.

“Okay,” she murmured, and the Mandalorian nodded as if that was his goodbye before pushing the button to lower the ramp. “Hey!” Imogen called, rushing to him and throwing her arms around his shoulders, knocking him back a couple of steps with an ‘oof’. “Be safe,” she implored him, melting against him as his arms came around her waist.

“I’ll be back,” he said, pulling away slightly to rest the forehead of his helmet against the top of Imogen’s head. “Don’t worry,”

She worried. For the first couple of days, Imogen had been able to distract herself with playing with Ruu’Eva and patching up random odd jobs on the Razor Crest. By the time the Mandalorian had been gone for 5 days, she had started wearing his cape constantly, trying to comfort herself with the scent of him wrapping around her. It had provided enough comfort to tide her over another week, but as it approached the 2 week mark with no word from the Mandalorian, Imogen really started to freak out. The cape no longer smelled like him, instead it was covered in Imogen’s scent.

She tried not to show Ruu’Eva how distressed she was, putting on her most convincing smile as she played with him, but it was as if he knew anyway, but was trying to be strong for his mom. He sought out more cuddles instead of playing, and Imogen was thankful for it, whether he knew he was comforting her or not.

On the night of day 13, after Ruu’Eva had conked out and been put in his bed, Imogen cried herself to sleep.

She was awoken abruptly, however, by the sound of boots on the floor of the Razor Crest. She shot up, recognizing the Mandalorian’s gate, and he barely had put the bounty in carbonite before Imogen was hurtling into his arms. She didn’t even care that she knocked him over, nuzzling into his neck as he lay on his back and she straddled him to comfort herself.

“Imogen,” he breathed, his arms encircling her and pulling her tight against him.

“You’re back,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face. The Mandalorian shot up, cupping her cheek as he stared at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, frantically standing and taking her to her cot. Imogen was no help, wrapping her legs around his waist and continuing to nuzzle into him as he carried her.

“You’re cape lost your scent,” she murmured, and the Mandalorian hummed, confused.

“Lost my scent?” he asked, and Imogen sighed, knowing she had to explain this to him at some point but right now she barely had the emotional energy.

“I’ll explain,” she promised, pulling back to begin undoing his armor. “But can you just hold me for a moment?” she pleaded, and the Mandalorian nodded, assisting her with setting his armor to the side and then pulling her to his warm chest. “You’re okay?” she asked him, her voice small, and the Mandalorian nodded.

“I’m okay,” he confirmed, and Imogen breathed a sigh of relief, belatedly guilty that she had barreled into him without even thinking of whether or not he was injured. “I-” the Mandalorian heaved a deep breath. “My scent?” he pressed, impatient for the explanation of Imogen's odd reason for distress.

“It’s a thing with my species, and probably others,” Imogen explained. “We um… it’s complicated,”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the Mandalorian assured her as his now ungloved hands stroked her back and through her hair. A wide smile unconsciously came to Imogen’s lips.

“We don’t have a name, really, and we were hunted by the Empire during its reign,” the Mandalorian’s arms tightened around her. “They wanted us for breeding stock, with our heightened sense of smell and sharp teeth,” the Mandalorian’s breathing quickened, but Imogen continued, voice sounding oddly detached, trying to distance herself from the horrors committed against her species. “But they couldn’t get anyone pregnant. We mate for life, and can only reproduce with our chosen mate, which is why you don’t really see a lot of us. The Empire didn’t believe that, thinking it was a myth, but after a couple months and zero sign of any babies, they shipped everyone off to Kessel. They continued hunting us out of spite, and a couple of the females were chosen for… special services,” the Mandalorian was basically crushing Imogen against his chest now, not that she minded. “They were valuable, seeing as nobody needed to worry about them getting pregnant. I think the Empire wanted us extinct… you know of Kessel, right?” she asked, and the Mandalorian nodded. Everyone knew of the terrors in the mines on Kessel. “I met someone, one of my kind, who had escaped from there once… they rip out our incisors,” she gasped out a shaky breath. “Take away our natural defenses,” 

“How-how do you choose your mates?” the Mandalorian asked, and Imogen chuckles slightly.

“It’s funny, my brother explained it to me once but I didn’t understand anything he said until kind of recently,” she said. “He described it as an instinct, some kind of pull that you don’t even recognize until you’ve fallen in love with them. We call them chosen mates, but there’s not really any choosing involved, it just happens,” she giggled softly. 

“You have a brother?” Imogen heaved out a forlorn sigh, tilting her head up to gaze into the black visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“I did,” she said.

“Oh,”

“He raised me, the Imperials came and took our mother away when I was an infant, but he hid with me in this tiny little cupboard, and then he raised me,” Imogen had a fond, but bitter smile on her face as she remembered her brother. “Eventually he met his mate, and they had a son,” she sniffled. “He was beautiful, and then the Imps came again, and this time it was me hiding with a baby in that cupboard,” tears began to leak out of Imogen’s eyes, and the Mandalorian raised a hand to cup her cheek, thumb swiping at the tears. “I watched them kill my brother and his mate, and then they found me, and decided since we were young they could make decent money selling us,” the tears came more aggressively now, but Imogen continued. “I tried to fight them off, but-but they got him, and they,” she let out a tiny sob. “They just threw him on the ground, just like that, they killed him, they killed a _baby_. I-I got so mad, that was the only time I’d used my teeth before that time on Coruscant, I ripped their throats out,” she began to sob freely now.

“I-” the Mandalorian cut himself off, probably realizing that there was no point in an apology, even if his instinct was to say “I’m sorry”. So instead he just held her as her tears soaked through his shirt. Once she had calmed down, and her gasping sobs were nothing more than little hiccups, the Mandalorian spoke again. “But my scent?” his voice was quiet, and confused, and Imogen took a deep breath, looking up at him with a small smile.

“The scent of our mate is-very comforting,” she said, not letting the Mandalorian think enough to realize what she was saying. “And your cape smelled like you, but now it smells like me and it just wasn’t enough,” the tears were still coming, but much slower now, and she heard the Mandalorian’s gasp as he realized what she was revealing to him.

“Me?” she nodded. 

* * *

Din let out a short laugh, glad that his tears were masked by his helmet. “ _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_ ,” he breathed, and Imogen froze, looking up at him.

“W-what does that mean?”

“I love you,” Din brought their foreheads together, closing his eyes as he basked in the pure _relief_ that came with admitting it. “Literally _I know you forever_ ,” Imogen smiled tearily at him, and Din cupped her cheek once more. 

“I love you too,” Imogen confessed, biting her lip, shy suddenly, and Din laughed slightly.

“Din,”

“What?” her gaze snapped up to his visor in confusion.

“My name is Din Djarin,” he told her, and Imogen smiled softly.

“Din,” she echoed. “It suits you, Din Djarin,” he shuddered at the way his name rolled from her tongue, and Imogen sighed contently as she nuzzled back into his neck.

“Imogen-I-” he cut himself off with a deep breath before trying to speak again “Do you trust me?” he asked, and Imogen nodded into his neck.

“Always,” Din nodded, standing and having Imogen stay on the cot.

“I’ll be right back,” he assured her, running to his room and grabbing a spare strip of cloth he had lying around.

He returned as quickly as he left with the cloth in hand.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded softly, and Imogen did so without hesitation. She didn’t even jump when Din wrapped the cloth around her eyes and tied it behind her head. “Is this alright?” he asked, and Imogen nodded.

“Yes,” Din nodded, despite knowing she couldn’t see, and took in a deep breath.

* * *

Imogen waited with a blindfold tied around her eyes, wondering what _exactly_ the Mandalorian-Din-had planned. She heard a thunk a little bit away from her, before feeling a warm puff of air brush her cheeks. It took her a moment to recognize it as someone’s breathing, and before she could gasp in surprise, Din had pressed his lips to hers. Imogen melted into the kiss, flinging her arms around his shoulders and kissing him back passionately. She sighed into his mouth as her fingers tangled in short locks of hair, and she briefly wondered what color they were-black? Brown? It didn’t matter, all that seemed to matter was kissing her Mandalorian like her life depended on it.

“I love you,” he muttered against her lips, hands finding her hips and lifting her so he could spin them around, sitting on her cot with her in his lap. “ _Cyar’ika,_ ” he breathed out as he broke away, lips trailing from her lips to her jaw, leaving kisses and nibbles down and down to her clavicle. Imogen sighed in pleasure as his lips brushed a particularly sensitive spot above her collarbone, and Din zeroed in on it, nipping and tonguing at it. She was vibrating with happiness, finally hearing these words and his _true_ voice, without a modulator. It was better than she’d thought, deeper and just as raspy as it was with the helmet, and it sent shivers through her body.

“I love you too,” Imogen fell boneless against him, running her hands through his hair as he laid back, taking her with him. She tugged slightly at his hair, earning a groan from him, and he followed her hand up to reconnect their lips.

They spent a couple minutes like that, lazily kissing each other until Din finally pulled away with a reluctant sigh. 

“We should sleep,” he said, and Imogen nodded. She flinched, however, when he sat up and went to grab his helmet.

“What are you doing?” she asked, and Din sighed.

“ _Cyare_ , I need to put my helmet back on before I take the blindfold off,” he said, voice tinged with a slight sadness.

“Then don’t take it off,” she grumbled, pulling him back to her. “I know your creed, and I respect it, Din,” they both shuddered as she said his name. “But it can’t be comfortable to sleep with the helmet on,”

“I’ve done it be-”

“I know you have,” she cut him off, slowly pushing her face forward to kiss his cheek. She ended up missing, instead kissing his forehead just above his eyebrow, but she followed his face, kissing across his forehead and down his nose before finally reaching his lips, leaving a quick peck there. “I’m just saying you don’t have to, I can sleep with a blindfold on, it’s much more comfortable than a helmet, I assume,” she giggled, and Din sighed.

“Okay,” he whispered, settling back into the cot and pulling Imogen into his chest, burying his face in her hair. Imogen sighed happily, leaving a kiss on his neck before beginning to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you  
> Cyar'ika - Darling; Beloved  
> Cyare - Beloved; Loved
> 
> Be on the lookout for the sequel!


End file.
